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©ID  WorlJ)  Series 


HELEN  OF  TROY 


NOTE. — The  title-page  of  Mr.  Lang's 
first  edition  was  a  brief  one  :  Helen  of 
Troy  by  A.  Lang  London  :  George  Bell  and 
Sons,  York  Street,  Co-vent  Garden  1882. 
(Crown  8vo.  Pp.  viii :  1-196.) 

The  second  edition  (1883)  had  a  more 
extended  title :  Helen  of  Troy  Her  Life 
and  Translation.  Done  into  Rhyme  from 
the  Greek  Books.  By  Andrew  Lang.  Some 
Time  Fellow  of  Merton  Coll.  in  Oxford. 
(Crown  8vo.  Pp.  viii :  1-202.)  Three  new 
stanzas  appear,  (Book  II,  xxiv ;  Book  VI, 
xx  and  xxi),  and  there  are  minor  verbal 
changes.  The  Note — an  admirable  essay 
in  itself, — was  also  revised :  in  later  re- 
issues of  the  second  edition  this  revision 
has  been  kept  up.  The  Old  World  reprint 
of  Helen  of  Troy  adheres  to  the  1883  text 
which  has  since  undergone  slight  altera- 
tion. The  Note,  however,  conforms  to 
Mr.  Lang's  latest  corrections  and  addi- 
tions. 


HELEN  OF  TROY 

HER  LIFE  AND  TRANSLATION 
DONE  INTO  RHYME  FROM 

THE  GREEK  BOOKS  BY 
ANDREW  LANG 


Portland,  Maine 
THOMAS  «.  MOSHE1{ 

Mdccccjc 


This  Third  Edition 
on  Van  Gelder  paper 
consists  of  925  copies. 


"  Le  joyeulx  temps  passd  souloit  estre 
occasion  que  je  faisoie  de  plaisants  diz 
et  gracieuses  chanconnetes  et  ballades. 
Mais  je  me  suis  mis  a  faire  cette  traittid 
d 'affliction  contre  ma  droite  nature  .... 
et  suis  content  de  1'avoir  prinse,  car  mes 
doulers  me  semblent  en  estre  allege'es." — 
Le  Romant  de  Troilus. 


To  all  old  Friends ;  to  all  who  dwell 
Where  Avon  dhu  and  Avon  gel 
Down  to  the  deep  Loch  Aline  flow 
Through  valleys  dear  from  long  ago ; 
To  all  who  hear  the  whisper'd  spell 
Of  Ken ;  and  Tweed  like  music  swell 
Hard  by  the  Land  Debatable, 

Or  '  roaring  Yarty '  seaward  go,  — 
To  all  old  Friends ! 

To  all  that  yet  remember  well 

What  secrets  Isis  had  to  tell, 
How  lazy  Cherwell  loiter'd  slow 
Sweet  aisles  of  blossom'd  May  below  - 

Whate'er  befall,  whate'er  befell, 
To  all  old  Friends. 


HELEN    OF  TROY 
BOOK  I 


Of  the  coming  of  Paris  to  the  house  of 
Menelaus,  King  of  Lacedaemon,  and  of 
the  tale  Paris  told  concerning  his  past  life. 


ALL  day  within  the  palace  of  the  King 
In  Lacedaemon,  was  there  revelry, 
Since  Menelaus  with  the  dawn  did  spring 

Forth  from  his  carven  couch,  and,  climbing  high 
The  tower  of  outlook,  gazed  along  the  dry 
White  road  that  runs  to  Pylos  through  the  plain, 

And  mark'd  thin  clouds  of  dust  against  the  sky, 
And  gleaming  bronze,  and  robes  of  purple  stain. 

II 

Then  cried  he  to  his  serving  men,  and  all 

Obey'd  him,  and  their  labour  did  not  spare, 
And  women  set  out  tables  through  the  hall, 

Light  polish'd  tables,  with  the  linen  fair. 

And  water  from  the  well  did  others  bear, 
And  the  good  house-wife  busily  brought  forth 

Meats  from  her  store,  and  stinted  not  the  rare 
Wine  from  Ismarian  vineyards  of  the  North. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


The  men  drave  up  a  heifer  from  the  field 

For  sacrifice,  and  sheath'd  her  horns  with  gold ; 

And  strong  Boethous  the  axe  did  wield 

And  smote  her;  on  the  fruitful  earth  she  roll'd, 
And  they  her  limbs  divided;  fold  on  fold 

They  laid  the  fat,  and  cast  upon  the  fire 

The  barley  grain.     Such  rites  were  wrought  of  old 

When  all  was  order'd  as  the  Gods  desire. 


And  now  the  chariots  came  beneath  the  trees 
Hard  by  the  palace  portals,  in  the  shade, 

And  Menelaus  knew  King  Diocles 

Of  Pherae,  sprung  of  an  unhappy  maid 
Whom  the  great  Elian  River  God  betray'd 

In  the  still  watches  of  a  summer  night, 

When  by  his  deep  green  water-course  she  stray'd 

And  lean'd  to  pluck  his  water-lilies  white. 


Beside  King  Diocles  there  sat  a  man 

Of  all  men  mortal  sure  the  fairest  far, 
For  o'er  his  purple  robe  Sidonian 

His  yellow  hair  shone  brighter  than  the  star 

Of  the  long  golden  locks  that  bodeth  war; 
His  face  was  like  the  sunshine,  and  his  blue 

Glad  eyes  no  sorrow  had  the  spell  to  mar 
Were  clear  as  skies  the  storm  hath  thunder'd  through. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 

VI 

The  stranger-prince  was  follow'd  by  a  band 

Of  men,  all  clad  like  rovers  of  the  sea, 
And  brown'd  were  they  as  is  the  desert  sand 

Loud  in  their  mirth,  and  of  their  bearing  free ; 

And  gifts  they  bore,  from  the  deep  treasury 
And  forests  of  some  far-off  Eastern  lord, 

Vases  of  gold,  and  bronze,  and  ivory, 
That  might  the  Pythian  fane  have  over-stored. 


Then  Menelaus  spake  unto  his  folk, 

And  eager  at  his  word  they  ran  amain, 
And  loosed  the  sweating  horses  from  the  yoke, 

And  cast  before  them  spelt,  and  barley  grain. 

And  lean'd  the  polish'd  car,  with  golden  rein, 
Against  the  shining  spaces  of  the  wall ; 

And  called  the  sea-rovers  who  follow'd  fain 
Within  the  pillar'd  fore-courts  of  the  hall. 


Now  when  the  King  had  greeted  Diocles 

And  him  that  seem'd  his  guest,  the  twain  were  led 
To  the  dim  polish'd  baths,  where,  for  their  ease, 

Cool  water  o'er  their  lustrous  limbs  was  shed; 

With  oil  anointed  was  each  goodly  head 
By  Asteris  and  Phylo  fair  of  face ; 

Next,  like  two  gods  for  loveliness,  they  sped 
To  Menelaus  in  the  banquet-place. 


HELEN    OF  TROY 

IX 

There  were  they  seated  at  the  King's  right  hand, 
And  maidens  bare  them  bread,  and  meat,  and  wine, 

Within  that  fair  hall  of  the  Argive  land 

Whose  doors  and  roof  with  gold  and  silver  shine 
As  doth  the  dwelling-place  of  Zeus  divine. 

And  Helen  came  from  forth  her  fragrant  bower 
The  fairest  lady  of  immortal  line, 

Like  morning,  when  the  rosy  dawn  doth  flower. 


Adraste  set  for  her  a  shining  chair, 

Well-wrought  of  cedar-wood  and  ivory; 

And  beautiful  Alcippe  led  the  fair, 
The  well-beloved  child,  Hermione, — 
A  little  maiden  of  long  summers  three  — 

Her  star-like  head  on  Helen's  breast  she  laid, 
And  peep'd  out  at  the  strangers  wistfully 

As  is  the  wont  of  children  half  afraid. 

XI 

Now  when  desire  of  meat  and  drink  was  done, 

And  ended  was  the  joy  of  minstrelsy, 
Queen  Helen  spake,  beholding  how  the  sun 

Within  the  heaven  of  bronze  was  riding  high : 

"  Truly,  my  friends,  methinks  the  hour  is  nigh 
When  men  may  crave  to  know  what  need  doth  bring 

To  Lacedaemon,  o'er  wet  ways  and  dry, 
This  prince  that  bears  the  sceptre  of  a  king  ? 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


"  Yea,  or  perchance  a  God  is  he,  for  still 

The  great  Gods  wander  on  our  mortal  ways, 

And  watch  their  altars  upon  mead  or  hill 
And  taste  our  sacrifice,  and  hear  our  lays, 
And  now,  perchance,  will  heed  if  any  prays, 

And  now  will  vex  us  with  unkind  control, 
But  anywise  must  man  live  out  his  days, 

For  Fate  hath  given  him  an  enduring  soul. 


"  Then  tell  us,  prithee,  all  that  may  be  told, 
And  if  thou  art  a  mortal,  joy  be  thine ! 

And  if  thou  art  a  God,  then  rich  with  gold 
Thine  altar  in  our  palace  court  shall  shine, 
With  roses  garlanded  and  wet  with  wine, 

And  we  shall  praise  thee  with  unceasing  breath ; 
Ah,  then  be  gentle  as  thou  art  divine, 

And  bring  not  on  us  grievous  Love  or  Death ! " 


Then  spake  the  stranger,  —  as  when  to  a  maid 

A  young  man  speaks,  his  voice  was  soft  and  low,  - 

"  Alas,  no  God  am  I ;  be  not  afraid, 

For  even  now  the  nodding  daisies  grow 
Whose  seed  above  my  grassy  cairn  shall  blow, 

When  I  am  nothing  but  a  drift  of  white 
Dust  in  a  cruse  of  gold ;  and  nothing  know 

But  darkness,  and  immeasurable  Night. 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


"  The  dawn,  or  noon,  or  twilight,  draweth  near 

When  one  shall  smite  me  on  the  bridge  of  war, 
Or  with  the  ruthless  sword,  or  with  the  spear, 

Or  with  the  bitter  arrow  flying  far. 

But  as  a  man's  heart,  so  his  good  days  are, 
That  Zeus,  the  Lord  of  Thunder,  giveth  him, 

Wherefore  I  follow  Fortune,  like  a  star, 
Whate'er  may  wait  me  in  the  distance  dim. 


"Now  all  men  call  me  PARIS,  Priam's  son, 
Who  widely  rules  a  peaceful  folk  and  still. 

Nay,  though  ye  dwell  afar  off,  there  is  none 
But  hears  of  Ilios  on  the  windy  hill, 
And  of  the  plain  that  the  two  rivers  fill 

With  murmuring  sweet  streams  the  whole  year  long, 
And  walls  the  Gods  have  wrought  with  wondrous  skill 

Where  cometh  never  man  to  do  us  wrong. 


"  Wherefore  I  sail'd  not  here  for  help  in  war, 
Though  well  the  Argives  in  such  need  can  aid. 

The  force  that  comes  on  me  is  other  far ; 
One  that  on  all  men  comes :  I  seek  the  maid 
Whom  golden  Aphrodite  shall  persuade 

To  lay  her  hand  in  mine,  and  follow  me, 
To  my  white  halls  within  the  cedar  shade 

Beyond  the  restless  waters  of  the  sea." 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Then  at  the  Goddess'  name  grew  Helen  pale, 
Like  golden  stars  that  nicker  in  the  dawn, 

Or  like  a  child  that  hears  a  dreadful  tale, 
Or  like  the  roses  on  a  rich  man's  lawn, 
When  now  the  suns  of  Summer  are  withdrawn, 

And  the  loose  leaves  with  a  sad  wind  are  stirr'd, 
Till  the  wet  grass  is  strewn  with  petals  wan, — 

So  paled  the  golden  Helen  at  his  word. 


But  swift  the  rose  into  her  cheek  return'd 
And  for  a  little  moment,  like  a  flame, 

The  perfect  face  of  Argive  Helen  burn'd, 

As  doth  a  woman's,  when  some  spoken  name 
Brings  back  to  mind  some  ancient  love  or  shame, 

But  none  save  Paris  mark'd  the  thing,  who  said, 
"  My  tale  no  more  must  weary  this  fair  dame, 

With  telling  why  I  wander  all  unwed." 

xx 

But  Helen,  bending  on  him  gracious  brows, 

Besought  him  for  the  story  of  his  quest, 
"  For  sultry  is  the  summer,  that  allows 

To  mortal  men  no  sweeter  boon  than  rest ; 

And  surely  such  a  tale  as  thine  is  best 
To  make  the  dainty-footed  hours  go  by, 

Till  sinks  the  sun  in  darkness  and  the  West, 
And  soft  stars  lead  the  Night  along  the  sky." 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Then  at  the  word  of  Helen  Paris  spoke, 
"  My  tale  is  shorter  than  a  summer  day,  — 

My  mother,  ere  I  saw  the  light,  awoke, 
At  dawn,  in  Ilios,  shrieking  in  dismay, 
Who  dream'd  that  'twixt  her  feet  there  fell  and  lay 

A  flaming  brand,  that  utterly  burn'd  down 
To  dust  of  crumbling  ashes  red  and  grey, 

The  coronal  of  towers  and  all  Troy  town. 


"  Then  the  interpretation  of  this  dream 
My  father  sought  at  many  priestly  hands, 

Where  the  white  temple  doth  in  Pytho  gleam, 
And  at  the  fane  of  Ammon  in  the  sands, 
And  where  the  oak  tree  of  Dodona  stands 

With  boughs  oracular  against  the  sky, — 

And  with  one  voice  the  Gods  from  all  the  lands, 

Cried  out,  '  The  child  must  die,  the  child  must  die.' 


"  Then  was  I  bom  to  sorrow ;  and  in  fear 

The  dark  priest  took  me  from  my  sire,  and  bore 

A  wailing  child  through  beech  and  pinewood  drear, 
Up  to  the  knees  of  Ida,  and  the  hoar 
Rocks  whence  a  fountain  welleth  evermore, 

And  steals  with  sullen  waters  to  the  sea, 

Through  black  and  rock-wall'd  pools  without  a  shore,- 

And  there  they  deem'd  they  took  farewell  of  me. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


"  But  round  my  neck  they  tied  a  golden  ring 
That  fell  from  Ganymedes  when  he  soar'd 

High  over  Ida  on  the  eagle's  wing, 

To  dwell  for  ever  with  the  Gods  adored, 
To  be  the  cup-bearer  beside  the  board 

Of  Zeus,  and  kneel  at  the  eternal  throne, — 
A  jewel  'twas  from  old  King  Tros's  hoard, 

That  ruled  in  llios  ages  long  agone. 


"And  there  they  left  me  in  that  dell  untrod, — 
Shepherd  nor  huntsman  ever  wanders  there, 

For  dread  of  Pan,  that  is  a  jealous  God, — 
Yea,  and  the  ladies  of  the  streams  forbear 
The  Naiad  nymphs,  to  weave  their  dances  fair, 

Or  twine  their  yellow  tresses  with  the  shy 
Forget-me-nots  and  fronds  of  maiden-hair, — 

There  had  the  priests  appointed  me  to  die. 


"  But  vainly  doth  a  man  contend  with  Fate  1 

My  father  had  less  pity  on  his  son 
Than  wild  things  of  the  woodland  desolate. 

'Tis  said  that  ere  the  Autumn  day  was  done 

A  great  she-bear,  that  in  these  rocks  did  wonn, 
Beheld  a  sleeping  babe  she  did  convey 

Down  to  a  den  unlocked  on  of  the  sun, 
The  cavern  where  her  own  soft  litter  lay. 


ii 


HELEN    OK    TROY 


"And  therein  was  I  nurtured  wondrously, 

So  Rumour  saith :  I  know  not  of  these  things, 

For  mortal  men  are  ever  wont  to  lie, 

Whene'er  they  speak  of  sceptre-bearing  kings : 
I  tell  what  I  was  told,  for  memory  brings 

No  record  of  those  days,  that  are  as  deep 
Lost  as  the  lullaby  a  mother  sings 

In  ears  of  children  that  are  fallen  on  sleep. 


"  Men  say  that  now  five  autumn  days  had  pass'd, 
When  Agelaus,  following  a  hurt  deer, 

Trod  soft  on  crackling  acoms,  and  the  mast 
That  lay  beneath  the  oak  and  beech-wood  sere, 
In  dread  lest  angry  Pan  were  sleeping  near, 

Then  heard  a  cry  from  forth  a  cavern  grey, 
And  peeping  round  the  fallen  rocks  in  fear, 

Beheld  where  in  the  wild  beast's  tracks  I  lay. 


"  So  Agelaus  bore  me  from  the  wild, 

Down  to  his  hut ;  and  with  his  children  I 
Was  nurtured,  being,  as  was  deem'd,  the  child 

Of  Hermes,  or  some  mountain  deity ; 

For  these  with  the  wild  nymphs  are  wont  to  lie 
Within  the  holy  caverns,  where  the  bee 

Can  scarcely  find  a  darkling  path  to  fly 
Through  veils  of  bracken  and  the  ivy-tree. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 

XXX 

"  So  with  the  shepherds  on  the  hills  I  stray'd, 
And  drave  the  kine  to  feed  where  rivers  run, 

And  play'd  upon  the  reed-pipe  in  the  shade, 
And  scarcely  knew  my  manhood  was  begun, 
The  pleasant  years  still  passing  one  by  one, 

Till  I  was  chiefest  of  the  mountain  men, 

And  clomb  the  peaks  that  take  the  snow  and  sun, 

And  braved  the  anger'd  lion  in  his  den. 


"  Now  in  my  herd  of  kine  was  one  more  dear 
By  far  than  all  the  rest,  and  fairer  far; 

A  milkwhite  bull,  the  captive  of  my  spear, 

And  all  the  wondering  shepherds  called  him  Star: 
And  still  he  led  his  fellows  to  the  war, 

When  the  lean  wolves  against  the  herds  came  down, 
Then  would  he  charge,  and  drive  their  hosts  afar 

Beyond  the  pastures  to  the  forests  brown. 


"  Now  so  it  chanced  that  on  an  autumn  morn, 
King  Priam  sought  a  goodly  bull  to  slay 

In  memory  of  his  child,  no  sooner  born 

Than  midst  the  lonely  mountains  cast  away, 
To  die  ere  scarce  he  had  beheld  the  day; 

And  Priam's  men  came  wandering  afar 

To  that  green  pool  where  by  the  flocks  I  lay, 

And  straight  they  coveted  the  goodly  Star, 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


"And  drave  him,  no  word  spoken,  to  the  town: 
One  man  mine  arrow  lit  on,  and  he  fell ; 

His  comrades  held  me  off,  and  down  and  down, 
Through  golden  windings  of  the  autumn  dell, 
They  spurr'd  along  the  beast  that  loved  me  well, 

Till  red  were  his  white  sides ;  I  following, 
Wrath  in  my  heart,  their  evil  deeds  to  tell 

In  Ilios,  at  the  footstool  of  the  King. 


"  But  ere  they  came  to  the  God-builded  wall, 

They  spied  a  meadow  by  the  water-side, 
And  there  the  men  of  Troy  were  gathered  all 

For  joust  and  play;  and  Priam's  sons  defied 

All  other  men  in  all  Maeonia  wide 
To  strive  with  them  in  boxing  and  in  speed. 

Victorious  with  the  shepherds  had  I  vied, 
So  boldly  followed  to  that  flowery  mead. 

xxxv 

"  Maeonia,  Phrygia,  Troia  there  were  met, 
And  there  the  King,  child  of  Laomedon, 

Rich  prizes  for  the  vanquishers  had  set, 
Damsels,  and  robes,  and  cups  that  like  the  sun 
Shone,  but  the  white  bull  was  the  chiefest  one ; 

And  him  the  victor  in  the  games  should  slay 
To  Zeus,  the  King  of  Gods,  when  all  was  done, 

And  so  with  sacrifice  should  crown  the  day. 


HELEN    OF  TROY 

XXXVI 

"  Now  it  were  over  long,  methinks,  to  tell 
The  contest  of  the  heady  charioteers, 

Of  them  the  goal  that  turn'd,  and  them  that  fell. 
But  I  outran  the  young  men  of  my  years, 
And  with  the  bow  did  I  out-do  my  peers, 

And  wrestling;  and  in  boxing,  over-bold, 
I  strove  with  Hector  of  the  ashen  spears, 

Yea,  till  the  deep-voiced  Heralds  bade  us  hold. 


"  Then  Priam  hail'd  me  winner  of  the  day ; 

Mine  were  the  maid,  the  cup,  and  chiefest  prize, 
Mine  own  fair  milkwhite  bull  was  mine  to  slay; 

But  then  the  murmurs  wax'd  to  angry  cries, 

And  hard  men  set  on  me  in  deadly  wise, 
My  brethren,  though  they  knew  it  not;  I  turn'd, 

And  fled  unto  the  place  of  sacrifice, 
Where  altars  to  the  God  of  strangers  burn'd. 


"  At  mine  own  funeral  feast  had  I  been  slain, 
But,  fearing  Zeus,  they  halted  for  a  space, 

And  lo,  Apollo's  priestess  with  a  train 
Of  holy  maidens  came  into  that  place, 
And  far  did  she  outshine  the  rest  in  grace, 

But  in  her  eyes  such  dread  was  frozen  then 
As  glares  eternal  from  the  Gorgon's  face 

Wherewith  Athene  quells  the  ranks  of  men. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


"  She  was  old  Priam's  daughter,  long  ago 

Apollo  loved  her,  and  did  not  deny 
His  gifts,  —  the  things  that  are  to  be  to  know, 

The  tongue  of  sooth-saying  that  cannot  lie, 

And  knowledge  gave  he  of  all  birds  that  fly 
'Neath  heaven;  and  yet  his  prayer  did  she  disdain. 

So  he  his  gifts  confounded  utterly, 
And  sooth  she  saith,  but  evermore  in  vain. 


"  She,  when  her  dark  eyes  fell  on  me,  did  stand 
At  gaze  a  while,  with  wan  lips  murmuring, 

And  then  came  nigh  to  me,  and  took  my  hand, 
And  led  me  to  the  footstool  of  the  King, 
And  call'd  me  'brother,'  and  drew  forth  the  ring 

That  men  had  found  upon  me  in  the  wild, 
For  still  I  bore  it  as  a  precious  thing, 

The  token  of  a  father  to  his  child. 


"  This  sign  Cassandra  show'd  to  Priam :  straight 

The  King  wax'd  pale,  and  ask'd  what  this  might  be  ? 
And  she  made  answer,  '  Sir,  and  King,  thy  fate 

That  comes  to  all  men  born  hath  come  on  thee ; 

This  shepherd  is  thine  own  child  verily : 
How  like  to  thine  his  shape,  his  brow,  his  hands! 

Nay  there  is  none  but  hath  the  eyes  to  see 
That  here  the  child  long  lost  to  Troia  stands.' 


16 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


"  Then  the  King  bare  me  to  his  lofty  hall, 

And  there  we  feasted  in  much  love  and  mirth, 

And  Priam  to  the  mountain  sent  for  all 

That  knew  me,  and  the  manner  of  my  birth : 
And  now  among  the  great  ones  of  the  earth 

In  royal  robe  and  state  behold  me  set, 

And  one  fell  thing  I  fear  not;  even  dearth, 

Whate'er  the  Gods  remember  or  forget. 


"  My  new  rich  life  had  grown  a  common  thing, 
The  pleasant  years  still  passing  one  by  one, 

When  deep  in  Ida  was  I  wandering 
The  glare  of  well-built  Ilios  to  shun, 
In  summer,  ere  the  day  was  wholly  done, 

When  I  beheld  a  goodly  prince,  —  the  hair 
To  bloom  upon  his  lip  had  scarce  begun, — 

The  season  when  the  flower  of  youth  is  fair. 


"Then  knew  I  Hermes  by  his  golden  wand 
Wherewith  he  lulls  the  eyes  of  men  to  sleep; 

But,  nodding  with  his  brows,  he  bade  me  stand, 
And  spake, '  To-night  thou  hast  a  tryst  to  keep, 
With  Goddesses  within  the  forest  deep; 

And  Paris,  lovely  things  shalt  thou  behold, 

More  fair  than  they  for  which  men  war  and  weep, 

Kingdoms,  and  fame,  and  victories,  and  gold. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


"'For,  lo!  to-night  within  the  forest  dim 

Do  Aphrodite  and  Athene  meet, 
And  Hera,  who  to  thee  shall  bare  each  limb, 

Each  grace  from  golden  head  to  ivory  feet, 

And  thee,  fair  shepherd  Paris,  they  entreat 
As  thou  'mongst  men  art  beauteous,  to  declare 

Which  Queen  of  Queens  immortal  is  most  sweet, 
And  doth  deserve  the  meed  of  the  most  fair. 


" '  For  late  between  them  rose  a  bitter  strife 
In  Peleus'  halls  upon  his  wedding  day, 

When  Peleus  took  him  an  immortal  wife, 
And  there  was  bidden  all  the  Gods'  array, 
Save  Discord  only;  yet  she  brought  dismay, 

And  cast  an  apple  on  the  bridal  board, 

With  "Let  the  fairest  bear  the  prize  away" 

Deep  on  its  golden  rind  and  gleaming  scored. 


" '  Now  in  the  sudden  night,  whenas  the  sun 
In  Tethys'  silver  arms  hath  slept  an  hour, 

Shalt  thou  be  had  into  the  forest  dun, 

And  brought  unto  a  dark  enchanted  bower, 
And  there  of  Goddesses  behold  the  flower 

With  very  beauty  burning  in  the  night, 

And  these  will  offer  Wisdom,  Love,  and  Power; 

Then,  Paris,  be'thou  wise,  and  choose  aright  I ' 


18 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


"  He  spake,  and  pass'd,  and  Night  without  a  breath, 

Without  a  star  drew  on ;  and  now  I  heard 
The  voice  that  in  the  springtime  wandereth, 

The  crying  of  Dame  Hera's  shadowy  bird ; 

And  soon  the  silence  of  the  trees  was  stirred 
By  the  wise  fowl  of  Pallas ;  and  anigh, 

More  sweet  than  is  a  girl's  first  loving  word, 
The  doves  of  Aphrodite  made  reply. 


"These  voices  did  I  follow  through  the  trees, 
Threading  the  coppice  'neath  a  starless  sky, 

When,  lo !  the  very  Queen  of  Goddesses, 
In  golden  beauty  gleaming  wondrously, 
Even  she  that  hath  the  Heaven  for  canopy, 

And  in  the  arms  of  mighty  Zeus  doth  sleep, — 
And  then  for  dread  methought  that  I  must  die, 

But  Hera  called  me  with  soft  voice  and  deep : 


" '  Paris,  give  me  the  prize,  and  thou  shalt  reign 
O'er  many  lordly  peoples,  far  and  wide, 

From  them  that  till  the  black  and  crumbling  plain, 
Where  the  sweet  waters  of  Aegyptus  glide, 
To  those  that  on  the  Northern  marches  ride, 

And  the  Ceteians,  and  the  blameless  men 
That  round  the  rising-place  of  Morn  abide, 

And  all  the  dwellers  in  the  Asian  fen. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


" '  And  I  will  love  fair  Ilios  as  I  love 

Argos  and  rich  Mycenae,  that  doth  hoard 

Deep  wealth ;  and  I  will  make  thee  king  above 
A  hundred  peoples;  men  shall  call  thee  lord 
In  tongues  thou  know'st  not :  thou  shalt  be  adored 

With  sacrifice,  as  are  the  Gods  divine, 
If  only  thou  wilt  speak  a  little  word, 

And  say  the  prize  of  loveliness  is  mine.' 


"  Then,  as  I  doubted,  like  a  sudden  flame 

Of  silver  came  Athene,  and  methought 
Beholding  her,  how  stately,  as  she  came, 

That  dim  wrood  to  a  fragrant  fane  was  wrought; 

So  pure  the  warlike  maiden  seem'd,  that  nought 
But  her  own  voice  commanding  made  me  raise 

Mine  eyes  to  see  her  beauty,  who  besought 
In  briefest  words  the  guerdon  of  all  praise. 


"  She  spake :  '  Nor  wealth  nor  crowns  are  in  my  gift ; 

But  wisdom,  but  the  eyes  that  glance  afar, 
But  courage,  and  the  spirit  that  is  swift 

To  cleave  her  path  through  all  the  waves  of  war; 

Endurance  that  the  Fates  can  never  mar; 
These,  and  my  loving  friendship,  —  these  are  thine, 

And  these  shall  guide  thee,  steadfast  as  a  star, 
If  thou  hast  eyes  to  know  the  prize  is  mine.' 


HKI,EN    OF    TROY 


"  Last  in  a  lovely  mist  of  rosy  fire, 

Came  Aphrodite  through  the  forest  glade, 

The  queen  of  all  delight  and  all  desire, 

More  fair  than  when  her  naked  foot  she  laid 

On  the  blind  mere's  wild  wave  that  sank  dismay'd, 

What  time  the  sea  grew  smoother  than  a  lake; 
I  was  too  happy  to  be  sore  afraid. 

And  like  a  song  her  voice  was  when  she  spake : 


" '  Oh  Paris,  what  is  power  ?     Tantalus 

And  Sisyphus  were  kings  long  time  ago, 
But  now  they  lie  in  the  Lake  Dolorous, 

The  hills  of  hell  are  noisy  with  their  woe ; 

Ay,  swift  the  tides  of  Empire  ebb  and  flow, 
And  that  is  quickly  lost  was  hardly  won, 

As  Ilios  herself  o'erwell  did  know 
When  high  walls  help'd  not  King  Laomedon. 


"  *  And  what  are  strength  and  courage  ?  for  the  child 
Of  mighty  Zeus,  the  strong  man  Herakles, 

Knew  many  days  and  evil,  ere  men  piled 
The  pyre  in  Oeta,  where  he  got  his  ease 
In  death,  where  all  the  ills  of  brave  men  cease. 

Nay,  Love  I  proffer;  beyond  the  brine 
Of  all  the  currents  of  the  Western  seas, 

The  fairest  woman  in  the  world  is  thine  I ' 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


"  She  spake,  and  touched  the  prize,  and  all  grew  dim, 

1  heard  no  voice  of  anger'd  Deity, 
But  round  me  did  the  night  air  swoon  and  swim, 

And,  when  I  waken'd,  lo !  the  sun  was  high, 

And  in  that  place  accursed  did  I  lie, 
Where  Agelaus  found  the  naked  child; 

Then  with  swift  foot  I  did  arise  and  fly 
Forth  from  the  deeps  of  that  enchanted  wild. 


"  And  down  I  sped  to  Ilios,  down  the  dell 

Where,  years  agone,  the  white  bull  guided  me, 
And  through  green  boughs  beheld  where  f oam'd  and  fell 

The  merry  waters  of  the  Western  sea; 

Of  Love  the  sweet  birds  sang  from  sky  and  tree, 
And  swift  I  reach'd  the  haven  and  the  shore, 

And  call'd  my  mariners,  and  follow'd  free 
Where  Love  might  lead  across  the  waters  hoar. 


"  Three  days  with  fair  winds  ran  we,  then  we  drave 

Before  the  North  that  made  the  long  waves  swell 
Round  Malea;  but  hardly  from  the  wave 

We  'scaped  at  Pylos,  Nestor's  citadel ; 

And  there  the  son  of  Neleus  loved  us  well, 
And  brought  us  to  the  high  prince,  Diocles, 

Who  led  us  hither,  and  it  thus  befell 
That  here,  below  thy  roof,  we  sit  at  ease." 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Then  all  men  gave  the  stranger  thanks  and  praise, 
And  Menelaus  for  red  wine  bade  call ; 

And  the  sun  fell,  and  dark  were  all  the  ways; 
Then  maidens  set  forth  braziers  in  the  hall, 
And  heap'd  them  high  with  lighted  brands  withal ; 

But  Helen  pass'd,  as  doth  the  fading  day 
Pass  from  the  world,  and  softly  left  them  all 

Loud  o'er  their  wine  amid  the  twilight  grey. 


So  night  drew  on  with  rain,  nor  yet  they  ceased 

Within  the  hall  to  drink  the  gleaming  wine, 
And  late  they  pour'd  the  last  cup  of  the  feast, 

To  Argus-bane,  the  Messenger  divine; 

And  last,  'neath  torches  tall  that  smoke  and  shine, 
The  maidens  strew'd  the  beds  with  purple  o'er, 

That  Diocles  and  Paris  might  recline 
All  night,  beneath  the  echoing  corridor. 


23 


BOOK  II 


The  coming  of  Aphrodite,  and  how 
she  told  Helen  that  she  must  depart  in 
company  with  Paris,  but  promised  withal 
that  Helen,  having  fallen  into  a  deep 
sleep,  should  awake  forgetful  of  her  old 
life,  and  ignorant  of  her  shame,  and 
blameless  of  those  evil  deeds  that  the 
Goddess  thrust  upon  her. 


BOOK  II 

THE  SPELL  OF  APHRODITE 


Now  in  the  upper  chamber  o'er  the  gate 
Lay  Menelaus  on  his  carven  bed, 
And  swift  and  sudden  as  the  stroke  of  Fate 
A  deep  sleep  fell  upon  his  weary  head. 
But  the  soft-winged  God  with  wand  of  lead 
Came  not  near  Helen ;  wistful  did  she  lie, 

Till  dark  should  change  to  grey,  and  grey  to  red, 
And  golden  throned  Morn  sweep  o'er  the  sky. 

II 

Slow  pass'd  the  heavy  night :  like  one  who  fears 
The  step  of  murder,  she  lies  quivering, 

If  any  cry  of  the  night  bird  she  hears, 

And  strains  her  eyes  to  mark  some  dreadful  thing, 
If  but  the  curtains  of  the  window  swing, 

Stirr'd  by  the  breath  of  night,  and  still  she  wept 
As  she  were  not  the  daughter  of  a  king, 

And  no  strong  king,  her  lord,  beside  her  slept. 


27 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Now  in  that  night,  the  folk  who  watch  the  night, 
Shepherds  and  fishermen,  and  they  that  ply 

Strange  arts  and  seek  their  spells  in  the  star-light, 
Beheld  a  marvel  in  the  sea  and  sky, 
For  all  the  waves  of  all  the  seas  that  sigh 

Between  the  straits  of  Helle  and  the  Nile, 
Flush'd  with  a  flame  of  silver  suddenly, 

From  soft  Cythera  to  the  Cyprian  isle. 


And  Hesperus,  the  kindest  star  of  heaven, 

That  bringeth  all  things  good,  wax'd  pale,  and  straight 
There  fell  a  flash  of  white  malignant  levin 

Among  the  gleaming  waters  desolate ; 

The  lights  of  sea  and  sky  did  mix  and  mate 
And  change  to  rosy  flame,  and  thence  did  fly 

The  lovely  Queen  of  Love  that  turns  to  hate, 
Like  summer  lightnings  'twixt  the  sea  and  sky. 


And  now  the  bower  of  Helen  fill'd  with  light, 

And  now  she  knew  the  thing  that  she  did  fear 
Was  close  upon  her  (for  the  black  of  night 

Doth  burn  like  fire,  whene'er  the  Gods  are  near) ; 

Then  shone  like  flame  each  helm  and  shield  and  spear 
That  hung  within  the  chamber  of  the  King, 

But  he,  —  though  all  the  bower  as  day  was  clear, — 
Slept  as  they  sleep  that  know  no  wakening. 


28 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


But  Helen  leap'd  from  her  fair  carven  bed 

Like  some  tormented  thing  that  fear  makes  bold, 
And  on  the  ground  she  beat  her  golden  head 

And  pray'd  with  bitter  meanings  manifold. 

Yet  knew  that  she  could  never  move  the  cold 
Heart  of  the  lovely  Goddess,  standing  there, 

Her  feet  upon  a  little  cloud,  a  fold 
Of  silver  cloud  about  her  bosom  bare. 


So  stood  Queen  Aphrodite,  as  she  stands 

Unmoved  in  her  bright  mansion,  when  in  vain 

Some  naked  maiden  stretches  helpless  hands 

And  shifts  the  magic  wheel,  and  burns  the  grain, 
And  cannot  win  her  lover  back  again, 

Nor  her  old  heart  of  quiet  any  more, 

Where  moonlight  floods  the  dim  Sicilian  main, 

And  the  cool  wavelets  break  along  the  shore. 


Then  Helen  ceased  from  unavailing  prayer, 
And  rose  and  faced  the  Goddess  steadily, 

Till  even  the  laughter-loving  lady  fair 
Half  shrank  before  the  anger  of  her  eye, 
And  Helen  cried  with  an  exceeding  cry, 

"  Why  doth  Zeus  live,  if  we  indeed  must  be 
No  more  than  sullen  spoils  of  destiny, 

And  slaves  of  an  adulteress  like  thee  ? 


29 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


"  What  wilt  thou  with  me,  mistress  of  all  woe  ? 

Say,  wilt  thou  bear  me  to  another  land 
Where  thou  hast  other  lovers?     Rise  and  go 

Where  dark  the  pine  trees  upon  Ida  stand, 

For  there  did  one  unloose  thy  girdle  band; 
Or  seek  the  forest  where  Adonis  bled, 

Or  wander,  wander  on  the  yellow  sand, 
Where  thy  first  lover  strew'd  thy  bridal  bed. 


"  Ah,  thy  first  lover  I  who  is  first  or  last 

Of  men  and  gods,  unnumber'd  and  unnamed  ? 
Lover  by  lover  in  the  race  is  pass'd, 

Lover  by  lover,  outcast  and  ashamed. 

Oh,  thou  of  many  names,  and  evil  famed ! 
What  wilt  thou  with  me  ?     What  must  I  endure 

Whose  soul,  for  all  thy  craft,  is  never  tamed? 
Whose  heart,  for  all  thy  wiles,  is  ever  pure  ? 


"  Behold,  my  heart  is  purer  than  the  plume 

Upon  the  stainless  pinions  of  the  swan, 
And  thou  wilt  smirch  and  stain  it  with  the  fume 

Of  all  thy  hateful  lusts  Idalian. 

My  name  shall  be  a  hissing  that  a  man 
Shall  smile  to  speak,  and  women  curse  and  hate, 

And  on  my  little  child  shall  come  a  ban, 
And  all  my  lofty  home  be  desolate. 


3° 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

XII 

"  Is  it  thy  will  that  like  a  golden  cup 

From  lip  to  lip  of  heroes  I  must  go, 
And  be  but  as  a  banner  lifted  up, 

To  beckon  where  the  winds  of  war  may  blow  ? 

Have  I  not  seen  fair  Athens  in  her  woe, 
And  all  her  homes  aflame  from  sea  to  sea, 

When  my  fierce  brothers  wrought  her  overthrow 
Because  Athenian  Theseus  ravish'd  me  — 


"  Me,  in  my  bloomless  youth,  a  maiden  child, 
From  Artemis'  pure  altars  and  her  fane, 

And  bare  me,  with  JPirithous  the  wild 

To  rich  Aphidna  ?     Many  a  man  was  slain, 
And  wet  with  blood  the  wide  Athenian  plain, 

And  fired  was  many  a  goodly  temple  then, 
But  fire  nor  blood  can  purify  the  stain 

Nor  make  my  name  reproachless  among  men." 


Then  Helen  ceased,  her  passion  like  a  flame 

That  slays  the  thing  it  lives  by,  blazed  and  fell, 
As  faint  as  waves  at  dawn,  though  fierce  they  came, 

By  night  to  storm  some  rocky  citadel ; 

For  Aphrodite  answer'd,  —  like  a  spell 
Her  voice  makes  strength  of  mortals  pass  away, — 

"  Dost  thou  not  know  that  I  have  loved  thee  well, 
And  never  loved  thee  better  than  to-day  ? 


31 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


"  Behold,  thine  eyes  are  wet,  thy  cheeks  are  wan, 

Yet  art  thou  born  of  an  immortal  sire, 
The  child  of  Nemesis  and  of  the  Swan; 

Thy  veins  should  run  with  ichor  and  with  fire. 

Yet  this  is  thy  delight  and  thy  desire, 
To  love  a  mortal  lord,  a  mortal  child, 

To  live,  unpraised  of  lute,  unhymn'd  of  lyre, 
As  any  woman  pure  and  undefiled. 


"  Thou  art  the  toy  of  Gods,  an  instrument 

Wherewith  all  mortals  shall  be  plagued  or  blest, 

Even  at  my  pleasure ;  yea  thou  shalt  be  bent 
This  way  and  that,  howe'er  it  like  me  best : 
And  following  thee,  as  tides  the  moon,  the  West 

Shall  flood  the  Eastern  coasts  with  waves  of  war, 
And  thy  vex'd  soul  shall  scarcely  be  at  rest, 

Even  in  the  havens  where  the  deathless  are. 


"  The  instruments  of  men  are  blind  and  dumb, 

And  this  one  gift  I  give  thee,  to  be  blind 
And  heedless  of  the  thing  that  is  to  come, 

And  ignorant  of  that  which  is  behind; 

Bearing  an  innocent  forgetful  mind 
In  each  new  fortune  till  I  visit  thee 

And  stir  thy  heart,  as  lightning  and  the  wind 
Bear  fire  and  tumult  through  a  sleeping  sea. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


"  Thou  shalt  forget  Hermione ;  forget 

Thy  lord,  thy  lofty  palace,  and  thy  kin ; 
Thy  hand  within  a  stranger's  shalt  thou  set, 

And  follow  him,  nor  deem  it  any  sin ; 

And  many  a  strange  land  wand'ring  shalt  thou  win, 
And  thou  shalt  come  to  an  unhappy  town, 

And  twenty  long  years  shalt  thou  dwell  therein, 
Before  the  Argives  mar  its  towery  crown. 


"And  of  thine  end  I  speak  not,  but  thy  name, — 

Thy  name  which  thou  lamentest,  —  that  shall  be 
A  song  in  all  men's  speech,  a  tongue  of  flame 

Between  the  burning  lips  of  Poesy; 

And  the  nine  daughters  of  Mnemosyne, 
With  Prince  Apollo,  leader  of  the  nine, 

Shall  make  thee  deathless  in  their  minstrelsy! 
Yea,  for  thou  shalt  outlive  the  race  divine, 


"  The  race  of  Gods,  for  like  the  sons  of  men 
We  Gods  have  but  our  season,  and  go  by; 

And  Cronos  pass'd,  and  Uranus,  and  then 
Shall  Zeus  and  all  his  children  utterly 
Pass,  and  new  Gods  be  born,  and  reign,  and  die, — 

But  thee  shall  lovers  worship  evermore 

What  Gods  soe'er  usurp  the  changeful  sky, 

Or  flit  forsaken  to  the  changeless  shore. 


33 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

XXI 

"  Now  sleep  and  dream  not,  sleep  the  long  day  through, 

And  the  brief  watches  of  the  summer  night, 
And  then  go  forth  amid  the  flowers  and  dew, 

Where  the  red  rose  of  Dawn  outburns  the  white. 

There  shall  thou  learn  my  mercy  and  my  might 
Between  the  drowsy  lily  and  the  rose ; 

There  shalt  thou  spell  the  meaning  of  delight, 
And  know  such  gladness  as  a  Goddess  knows ! " 


Then  Sleep  came  floating  from  the  Lemnian  isle, 
And  over  Helen  crush'd  his  poppy  crown, 

Her  soft  lids  waver'd  for  a  little  while, 

Then  on  her  carven  bed  she  laid  her  down, 
And  Sleep,  the  comforter  of  king  and  clown, 

Kind  Sleep  the  sweetest,  near  akin  to  Death, 

Held  her  as  close  as  Death  doth  men  that  drown, 

So  close  that  none  might  hear  her  inward  breath  — 


So  close  no  man  might  tell  she  was  not  dead ! 

And  then  the  Goddess  took  her  zone,  —  where  lies 
All  her  enchantment,  love  and  lustihead, 

And  the  glad  converse  that  beguiles  the  wise, 

And  grace  the  very  Gods  may  not  despise, 
And  sweet  Desire  that  doth  the  whole  world  move, — 

And  therewith  touch'd  she  Helen's  sleeping  eyes 
And  made  her  lovely  as  the  Queen  of  Love. 


34 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


Then  round  her  throat  she  clasp'd  an  amulet 
A  ruby  graven  with  a  wondrous  spell, 

That  in  a  coil  of  burning  gold  was  set, 

And  thence  the  blood-red  drops  for  ever  fell, 
And  strangely  vanish'd;  (thus  old  stories  tell) 

Nor  mark'd  her  white  breast  with  their  over-flow, 
A  symbol  of  men's  blood,  that  still  must  well, 

Where  Helen  pass'd,  nor  stain  her  feet  of  snow. 


Then  laughter-loving  Aphrodite  went 

To  far  Idalia,  over  land  and  sea, 
And  scarce  the  fragrant  cedar-branches  bent 

Beneath  her  footsteps,  faring  daintily ; 

And  in  Idalia  the  Graces  three 
Anointed  her  with  oil  ambrosial, — 

So  to  her  house  in  Sidon  wended  she 
To  mock  the  prayers  of  lovers  when  they  call. 


And  all  day  long  the  incense  and  the  smoke 
Lifted,  and  fell,  and  soft  and  slowly  roll'd, 

And  many  a  hymn  and  musical  awoke 
Between  the  pillars  of  her  house  of  gold, 
And  rose-crown'd  girls,  and  fair  boys  linen-stoled, 

Did  sacrifice  her  fragrant  courts  within, 

And  in  dark  chapels  wrought  rites  manifold 

The  loving  favour  of  the  Queen  to  win. 


35 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


But  Menelaus,  waking  suddenly, 

Beheld  the  dawn  was  white,  the  day  was  near, 
And  rose,  and  kiss'd  fair  Helen ;  no  good-bye 

He  spake,  and  never  mark'd  a  fallen  tear, — 

Men  know  not  when  they  part  for  many  a  year, — 
He  grasp'd  a  bronze-shod  lance  in  either  hand, 

And  merrily  went  forth  to  drive  the  deer, 
With  Paris,  through  the  dewy  morning  land.      ^ 


So  up  the  steep  sides  of  Taygetus 

They  fared,  and  to  the  windy  hollows  came, 
While  from  the  streams  of  deep  Oceanus 

The  sun  arose,  and  on  the  fields  did  flame ; 

And  through  wet  glades  the  huntsmen  drave  the  game, 
And  with  them  Paris  sway'd  an  ashen  spear, 

Heavy,  and  long,  and  shod  with  bronze  to  tame 
The  mountain-dwelling  goats  and  forest  deer. 


Now  in  a  copse  a  mighty  boar  there  lay, 

For  through  the  boughs  the  wet  winds  never  blew, 

Nor  lit  the  bright  sun  on  it  with  his  ray, 

Nor  rain  might  pierce  the  woven  branches  through, 
But  leaves  had  fallen  deep  the  lair  to  strew : 

Then  questing  of  the  hounds  and  men's  foot-fall 
Aroused  the  boar,  and  forth  he  sprang  to  view, 

With  eyes  that  burn'd,  at  bay,  before  them  all. 

36 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Then  Paris  was  the  first  to  rush  on  him, 

With  spear  aloft  in  his  strong  hand  to  smite, 

And  through  the  monster  pierced  the  point;  and  dim 
The  flame  fell  in  his  eyes,  and  all  his  might 
With  his  last  cry  went  forth ;  forgetting  fight, 

Forgetting  strength,  he  fell,  and  gladly  then 
They  gather'd  round,  and  dealt  with  him  aright 

Then  left  his  body  with  the  serving  men. 


Now  birds  were  long  awake,  that  with  their  cry 

Were  wont  to  waken  Helen ;  and  the  dew 
Where  fell  the  sun  upon  the  lawn  was  dry, 

And  all  the  summer  land  was  glad  anew ; 

And  maidens'  footsteps  rang  the  palace  through, 
And  with  their  footsteps  chimed  their  happy  song, 

And  one  to  other  cried,  "  A  marvel  new 
That  soft-wing'd  Sleep  hath  held  the  Queen  so  long ! " 


Then  Phylo  brought  the  child  Hermione, 
And  close  unto  her  mother's  side  she  crept, 

And  o'er  her  god-like  beauty  tumbled  she, 
Chiding  her  sweetly  that  so  late  she  slept, 
And  babbling  still«a  merry  coil  she  kept ; 

But  like  a  woman  stiff  beneath  her  shroud 

Lay  Helen;  till  the  young  child  fear'd  and  wept, 

And  ran,  and  to  her  nurses  cried  aloud. 


37 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Then  came  the  women  quickly,  and  in  dread 
Gather'd  round  Helen,  but  might  naught  avail 

To  wake  her;  moveless  as  a  maiden  dead 
That  Artemis  hath  slain,  yet  nowise  pale, 
She  lay ;  but  Aethra  did  begin  the  wail, 

And  all  the  women  with  sad  voice  replied, 
Who  deem'd  her  pass'd  unto  the  poplar  vale 

Wherein  doth  dread  Persephone  abide. 


Ahl  slowly  went  the  miserable  day 

In  the  rich  house  that  late  was  full  of  pride ; 

Till  the  sun  fell,  and  all  the  paths  were  grey, 
And  Menelaus  from  the  mountain-side 
Came,  and  through  palace  doors  all  open  wide 

Rang  the  wild  dirge  that  told  him  of  the  thing 
That  Helen,  that  the  Queen  had  strangely  died. 

Then  on  his  threshold  fell  he  grovelling, 


And  cast  the  dust  upon  his  yellow  hair, 

And,  but  that  Paris  leap'd  and  held  his  hand, 

His  hunter's  knife  would  he  have  clutch'd,  and  there 
Had  slain  himself,  to  follow  to  that  land 
Where  flit  the  ghosts  of  men,  a  shadowy  band 

That  have  no  more  delight,  no  more  desire, 

When  once  the  flesh  hath  burn'd  down  like  a  brand, 

Drench'd  by  the  dark  wine  on  the  funeral  pyre : 

38 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


So  on  the  ashen  threshold  lay  the  king, 

And  all  within  the  house  was  chill  and  drear; 
The  women  watchers  gather'd  in  a  ring 

About  the  bed  of  Helen  and  her  bier; 

And  much  had  they  to  tell,  and  much  to  hear, 
Of  happy  queens  and  fair,  untimely  dead, — 

Such  joy  they  took  amid  their  evil  cheer, — 
While  the  low  thunder  muttered  overhead. 


39 


BOOK  111 


The  flight  of  Helen  and  Paris  from 
Lacedaemon,  and  of  what  things  befell 
them  in  their  voyaging,  and  how  they 
came  to  Troy. 


BOOK  III 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  HELEN 


THE  grey  Dawn's  daughter,  rosy  Morn  awoke 
In  old  Tithonus'  arms,  and  suddenly 
Let  harness  her  swift  steeds  beneath  the  yoke, 
And  drave  her  shining  chariot  through  the  sky. 
Then  men  might  see  the  flocks  of  Thunder  fly, 
All  gold  and  rose,  the  azure  pastures  through, 

What  time  the  lark  was  carolling  on  high 
Above  the  garden  drench'd  with  rainy  dew.  • 

II 

But  Aphrodite  sent  a  slumber  deep 

On  all  in  the  King's  palace,  young  and  old, 

And  one  by  one  the  women  fell  asleep, — 
Their  lamentable  tales  left  half  untold, — 
Before  the  dawn,  when  folk  wax  weak  and  cold, 

But  Helen  waken'd  with  the  shining  morn, 
Forgetting  quite  her  sorrows  manifold, 

And  light  of  heart  as  was  the  day  new-born. 


43 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


III 

She  had  no  memory  of  unhappy  things, 

She  knew  not  of  the  evil  days  to  come, 
Forgotten  were  her  ancient  wanderings, 

And  as  Lethaean  waters  wholly  numb 

The  sense  of  spirits  in  Elysium, 
That  no  remembrance  may  their  bliss  alloy, 

Even  so  the  rumour  of  her  days  was  dumb, 
And  all  her  heart  was  ready  for  new  joy. 


The  young  day  knows  not  of  an  elder  dawn, 
Joys  of  old  noons,  old  sorrows  of  the  night, 

And  so  from  Helen  was  the  past  withdrawn, 
Her  lord,  her  child,  her  home  forgotten  quite, 
Lost  in  the  marvel  of  a  new  delight : 

She  was  as  one  who  knows  he  shall  not  die, 
When  earthly  colours  melt  into  the  bright 

Pure  splendour  of  his  immortality. 


Then  Helen  rose,  and  all  her  body  fair 

She  bath'd  in  the  spring  water,  pure  and  cold, 

And  with  her  hand  bound  up  her  shining  hair 
And  clothed  her  in  the  raiment  that  of  old 
Athene  wrought  with  marvels  manifold, 

A  bridal  gift  from  an  immortal  hand, 

And  all  the  front  was  clasp'd  with  clasps  of  gold, 

And  for  the  girdle  was  a  golden  band. 


44 


HELEN    OF   TROY 

VI 

Next  from  her  upper  chamber  silently 

Went  Helen,  moving  like  a  morning  dream. 

She  did  not  know  the  golden  roof,  the  high 

Walls,  and  the  shields  that  on  the  pillars  gleam, 
Only  she  heard  the  murmur  of  the  stream 

That  waters  all  the  garden's  wide  expanse, 
This  song,  and  cry  of  singing  birds,  did  seem 

To  guide  her  feet  as  music  guides  the  dance. 


The  music  drew  her  on  to  the  glad  air 

From  forth  the  chamber  of  enchanted  death, 

And  lo !  the  world  was  waking  everywhere ; 
The  wind  went  by,  a  cool  delicious  breath, 
Like  that  which  in  the  gardens  wandereth, 

The  golden  gardens  of  the  Hesperides, 
And  in  its  song  unheard  of  things  it  saith, 

The  myriad  marvels  of  the  fairy  seas. 

VIII 

So  through  the  courtyard  to  the  garden  close 

Went  Helen,  where  she  heard  the  murmuring 
Of  water  'twixt  the  lily  and  the  rose; 

For  thereby  doth  a  double  fountain  spring. 

To  one  stream  do  the  women  pitchers  bring 
By  Menelaus'  gates,  at  close  of  day; 

The  other  through  the  close  doth  shine  and  sing, 
Then  to  the  swift  Eurotas  fleets  away. 


45 


HELEN    OF   TROY 
IX 

And  Helen  sat  her  down  upon  the  grass, 
And  pluck'd  the  little  daisies  white  and  red, 

And  toss'd  them  where  the  running  waters  pass, 
To  watch  them  racing  from  the  fountain-head, 
And  whirl'd  about  where  little  streams  dispread ; 

And  still  with  merry  birds  the  garden  rang, 
And  marry,  marry,  in  their  song  they  said, 

Or  so  do  maids  interpret  that  they  sang. 


Then  stoop'd  she  down,  and  watch'd  the  crystal  stream, 
And  fishes  poising  where  the  waters  ran, 

And  lo  1  upon  the  glass  a  golden  gleam, 
And  purple  as  of  robes  Sidonian, 
Then,  sudden  turning,  she  beheld  a  man, 

That  knelt  beside  her;  as  her  own  face  fair 
Was  his,  and  o'er  his  shoulders  for  a  span 

Fell  the  bright  tresses  of  his  yellow  hair. 


Then  either  look'd  on  other  with  amaze 
As  each  had  seen  a  God ;  for  no  long  while 

They  marvell'd,  but  as  in  the  first  of  days, 

The  first  of  men  and  maids  did  meet  and  smile, 
And  Aphrodite  did  their  hearts  beguile, 

So.hands  met  hands,  lips  lips,  with  no  word  said 
Were  they  enchanted  'neath  that  leafy  aisle, 

And  silently  were  woo'd,  betroth'd,  and  wed. 


46 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Ah,  slowly  did  their  silence  wake  to  words 

That  scarce  had  more  of  meaning  than  the  song 
Pour'd  forth  of  the  innumerable  birds 

That  fill  the  palace  gardens  all  day  long; 

So  innocent,  so  ignorant  of  wrong, 
Was  she,  so  happy  each  in  other's  eyes, 

Thus  wrought  the  mighty  Goddess  that  is  strong, 
Even  to  make  naught  the  wisdom  of  the  wise. 


Now  in  the  midst  of  that  enchanted  place 

Right  gladly  had  they  linger'd  all  day  through, 

And  fed  their  love  upon  each  other's  face, 
But  Aphrodite  had  a  counsel  new, 
And  silently  to  Paris'  side  she  drew, 

In  guise  of  Aethra,  whispering  that  the  day 
Sped  on,  while  his  ship  waited,  and  his  crew 

Impatient,  in  the  narrow  Gythian  bay. 


For  thither  had  she  brought  them  by  her  skill ; 

But  Helen  saw  her  not,  —  nay,  who  can  see 
A  Goddess  come  or  go  against  her  will  ? 

Then  Paris  whisper'd,  "  Come,  ah,  Love,  with  me ! 

Come  to  a  shore  beyond  the  barren  sea; 
There  doth  the  bridal  crown  await  thy  head, 

And  there  shall  all  the  land  be  glad  of  thee ! " 
Then,  like  a  child,  she  follow'd  where  he  led. 


47 


HELEN   OF  TROY 
XV 

For,  like  a  child's  her  gentle  heart  was  glad. 

So  through  the  courtyard  pass'd  they  to  the  gate ; 
And  even  there,  as  Aphrodite  bade, 

The  steeds  of  Paris  and  the  chariots  wait ; 

Then  to  the  well-wrought  car  he  led  her  straight, 
And  grasped  the  shining  whip  and  golden  rein, 

And  swift  they  drave  until  the  day  was  late 
By  clear  Eurotas  through  the  fruitful  plain. 


But  now  within  the  halls  the  magic  sleep 

Was  broken,  and  men  sought  them  everywhere ; 
Yet  Aphrodite  cast  a  cloud  so  deep 

About  their  chariot  none  might  see  them  there. 

And  strangely  did  they  hear  the  trumpets  blare, 
And  noise  of  racing  wheels;  yet  saw  they  nought: 

Then  died  the  sounds  upon  the  distant  air, 
And  safe  they  won  the  haven  that  they  sought. 


Beneath  a  grassy  cliff,  beneath  the  down, 
Where  swift  Eurotas  mingles  with  the  sea, 

There  climb'd  the  grey  walls  of  a  little  town, 
The  sleepy  waters  wash'd  it  languidly, 
For  tempests  in  that  haven  might  not  be. 

The  isle  across  the  inlet  guarded  all, 

And  the  shrill  winds  that  roam  the  ocean  free 

Broke  and  were  broken  on  the  rocky  wall. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Then  Paris  did  a  point  of  hunting  blow, 
Nor  yet  the  sound  had  died  upon  the  hill 

When  round  the  isle  they  spied  a  scarlet  prow, 
And  oars  that  flash'd  into  that  haven  still, 
The  oarsmen  bending  forward  with  a  will, 

And  swift  their  black  ship  to  the  haven-side 

They  brought,  and  steer'd  her  in  with  goodly  skill, 

And  bare  on  board  the  strange  Achaean  bride. 


Now  while  the  swift  ship  through  the  waters  clave, 
All  happy  things  that  in  the  waters  dwell, 

Arose  and  gamboll'd  on  the  glassy  wave, 

And  Nereus  led  them  with  his  sounding  shell: 
Yea,  the  sea-nymphs,  their  dances  weaving  well, 

In  the  green  water  gave  them  greeting  free. 
Ah,  long  light  linger'd,  late  the  darkness  fell, 

That  night,  upon  the  isle  of  Cranae. 

xx     - 

And  Hymen  shook  his  fragrant  torch  on  high, 
Till  all  its  waves  of  smoke  and  tongues  of  flame, 

Like  clouds  of  rosy  gold  fulfill'd  the  sky; 
And  all  the  Nereids  from  the  waters  came, 
Each  maiden  with  a  musical  sweet  name ; 

Doris,  and  Doto,  and  Amphithoe; 

And  their  shrill  bridal  song  of  love  and  shame 

Made  music  in  the  silence  of  the  sea. 


49 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


For  this  was  like  that  night  of  summer  weather, 

When  mortal  men  and  maidens  without  fear, 
And  forest-nymphs,  and  forest-gods  together, 

Do  worship  Pan  in  the  long  twilight  clear. 

And  Artemis  this  one  night  spares  the  deer, 
And  every  cave  and  dell,  and  every  grove 

Is  glad  with  singing  soft  and  happy  cheer, 
With  laughter,  and  with  dalliance,  and  with  love. 
****** 
XXII 

Now  when  the  golden-throned  Dawn  arose 

To  waken  gods  and  mortals  out  of  sleep, 
Queen  Aphrodite  sent  the  wind  that  blows 

From  fairy  gardens  of  the  Western  deep. 

The  sails  are  spread,  the  oars  of  Paris  leap 
Past  many  a  headland,  many  a  haunted  fane : 

And,  merrily  all  from  isle  to  isle  they  sweep 
O'er  the  wet  ways  across  the  barren  plain. 


By  many  an  island  fort,  and  many  a  haven 

They  sped,  and  many  a  crowded  arsenal: 
They  saw  the  loves  of  Gods  and  men  engraven 

On  friezes  of  Astarte's  temple  wall. 

They  heard  that  ancient  shepherd  Proteus  call 
His  flock  from  forth  the  green  and  tumbling  lea, 

And  saw  white  Thetis  with  her  maidens  all 
Sweep  up  to  high  Olympus  from  the  sea. 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


They  saw  the  vain  and  weary  toil  of  men, 

The  ships  that  win  the  rich  man  all  he  craves; 

They  pass'd  the  red-prow'd  barks  Egyptian, 
And  heard  afar  the  moaning  of  the  slaves 
Pent  in  the  dark  hot  hold  beneath  the  waves; 

And  scatheless  the  Shardana's  fleets  among 

They  sail'd ;  by  men  that  sow  the  sea  with  graves, 

Bearing  black  fate  to  folk  of  alien  tongue. 


Then  all  day  long  a  rolling  cloud  of  smoke 

Would  hang  on  the  sea-limits,  faint  and  far, 
But  through  the  night  the  beacon-flame  upbroke 

From  some  rich  island-town  begirt  with  war; 

And  all  these  things  could  neither  make  nor  mar 
The  joy  of  lovers  wandering,  but  they 

Sped  happily,  and  heedless  of  the  star 
That  hung  o'er  their  glad  haven,  far  away. 


The  fisher-sentinel  upon  the  height 

Watch'd  them  with  vacant  eyes,  and  little  knew 
They  bore  the  fate  of  Troy ;  to  him  the  bright 

Plashed  waters,  with  the  silver  shining  through 

When  tunny  shoals  came  cruising  in  the  blue, 
Was  more  than  Love  that  doth  the  world  unmake ; 

And  listless  gazed  he  as  the  gulls  that  flew 
And  shriek'd  and  chatter'd  in  the  vessel's  wake. 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


So  the  wind  drave  them,  and  the  waters  bare 

Across  the  great  green  plain  unharvested, 
Till  through  an  after-glow  they  knew  the  fair 

Faint  rose  of  snow  on  distant  Ida's  head. 

And  swifter  then  the  joyous  oarsmen  sped; 
But  night  was  ended,  and  the  waves  were  fire 

Beneath  the  fleet  feet  of  a  dawning  red 
Or  ere  they  won  the  land  of  their  desire. 


Now  when  the  folk  about  the  haven  knew 

The  scarlet  prow  of  Paris,  swift  they  ran 
And  the  good  ship  within  the  haven  drew, 

And  merrily  their  welcoming  began. 

But  none  the  face  of  Helen  dared  to  scan; 
Their  bold  eyes  fell  before  they  had  their  fill, 

For  all  men  deem'd  her  that  Idalian 
Who  loved  Anchises  on  the  lonely  hill. 


But  when  her  sweet  smile  and  her  gentleness 

And  her  kind  speech  had  won  them  from  dismay, 
They  changed  their  minds,  and  'gan  the  Gods  to  bless 

Who  brought  to  Ilios  that  happy  day. 

And  all  the  folk  fair  Helen  must  convey, 
Crown'd  like  a  bride,  and  clad  with  flame-hued  pall, 

Through  the  rich  plain,  along  the  water-way 
Right  to  the  great  gates  of  the  Ilian  wall. 


5- 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


And  through  the  vines  they  pass'd,  where  old  and  young 
Had  no  more  heed  of  the  glad  vintaging, 

But  all  unpluck'd  the  purple  clusters  hung, 
Nor  more  of  Linus  did  the  minstrel  sing, 
For  he  and  all  the  folk  were  following, 

Wine-stain'd  and  garlanded,  in  merry  bands, 
Like  men  when  Dionysus  came  as  king, 

And  led  his  revel  from  the  sun-burnt  lands, 


So  from  afar  the  music  and  the  shout 
Roll'd  up  to  Ilios  and  the  Scaean  gate, 

And  at  the  sound  the  city  folk  came  out 
And  bore  sweet  Helen  —  such  a  fairy  weight 
As  none  might  deem  the  burden  of  Troy's  fate  — 

Across  the  threshold  of  the  town,  and  all 

Flock'd  with  her,  where  King  Priam  sat  in  state, 

Girt  by  his  elders,  on  the  Ilian  wall. 

XXXII 

No  man  but  knew  him  by  his  crown  of  gold, 
And  golden-studded  sceptre,  and  his  throne ; 

Ay,  strong  he  seem'd  as  those  great  kings  of  old, 
Whose  image  is  eternal  on  the  stone 
Won  from  the  mounds  that  once  were  Babylon ; 

But  kind  of  mood  was  he  withal,  and  mild, 
And  when  his  eyes  on  Argive  Helen  shone, 

He  loved  her  as  a  father  doth  a  child. 


53 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


Round  him  were  set  his  peers,  as  Panthous, 

Antenor,  and  Agenor,  hardly  grey, 
Scarce  touch'd  as  yet  with  age,  nor  garrulous 

As  are  cicalas  on  a  sunny  day : 

Such  might  they  be  when  years  had  slipp'd  away, 
And  made  them  over-weak  for  war  or  joy, 

Content  to  watch  the  Leaguer  as  it  lay 
Beside  the  ships,  beneath  the  walls  of  Troy. 


Then  Paris  had  an  easy  tale  to  tell, 

Which  then  might  win  upon  men's  wond'ring  ears, 
Who  deem'd  that  Gods  with  mortals  deign  to  dwell, 

And  that  the  water  of  the  West  enspheres 

The  happy  Isles  that  know  not  Death  nor  tears; 
Yea,  and  though  monsters  do  these  islands  guard, 

Yet  men  within  their  coasts  had  dwelt  for  years 
Uncounted,  with  a  strange  love  for  reward. 

xxxv 

And  there  had  Paris  ventured:  so  said  he, — 

Had  known  the  Sirens'  song,  and  Circe's  wile; 
And  in  a  cove  of  that  Hesperian  sea 

Had  found  a  maiden  on  a  lonely  isle ; 

A  sacrifice,  if  so  men  might  beguile 
The  wrath  of  some  beast-god  they  worshipp'd  there, 

But  Paris,  'twixt  the  sea  and  strait  defile, 
Had  slain  the  beast,  and  won  the  woman  fair. 


5-1 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Then  while  the  happy  people  cried  "  Well  done," 
And  Priam's  heart  was  melted  by  the  tale  — 

For  Paris  was  his  best-beloved  son  — 

Came  a  wild  woman,  with  wet  eyes,  and  pale 
Sad  face,  men  look'd  on  when  she  cast  her  veil, 

Not  gladly;  and  none  mark'd  the  thing  she  said, 
Yet  could  not  'scape  her  long  and  boding  wail 

That  follow'd  still,  however  fleet  they  fled. 


She  was  the  priestess  of  Apollo's  fane, 
Cassandra,  and  the  God  of  prophecy 

Spurr'd  her  to  speak  and  rent  her !  but  in  vain 
She  toss'd  her  wasted  arms  against  the  sky, 
And  brake  her  golden  circlet  angrily, 

And  shriek'd  that  they  had  brought  within  the  gate 
Helen,  a  serpent  at  their  hearts  to  lie! 

Helen,  a  hell  of  people,  king,  and  state  ! 

XXXVIII 

But  ere  the  God  had  left  her;  ere  she  fell 

And  foam'd  among  her  maidens  on  the  ground, 
The  air  was  ringing  with  a  merry  swell 

Of  flute,  and  pipe,  and  every  sweetest  sound, 

In  Aphrodite's  fane,  and  all  around 
Were  roses  toss'd  beneath  the  dusky  green 

Of  that  high  roof,  and  Helen  there  was  crown'd 
The  Goddess  of  the  Trojans,  and  their  Queen. 


55 


BOOK  IV 


How  Helen  was  made  an  outcast  by 
the  Trojan  women,  and  how  CEnone,  the 
old  love  of  Paris,  sent  her  son  Corythus 
to  him  as  her  messenger,  and  how  Paris 
slew  him  unwittingly ;  and  of  the  curses 
of  CEnone,  and  the  coming  of  the  Argive 
host  against  Troy. 


BOOK  IV 

THE  DEATH  OF  CORYTHUS 


FOR  long  in  Troia  was  there  peace  and  mirth, 
The  pleasant  hours  still  passing  one  by  one; 
And  Helen  joy'd  at  each  fresh  morning's  birth, 
And  almost  wept  at  setting  of  the  sun, 
For  sorrow  that  the  happy  day  was  done ; 
Nor  dream'd  of  years  when  she  should  hate  the  light, 

And  mourn  afresh  for  every  day  begun, 
Nor  fare  abroad  save  shamefully  by  night. 

II 

And  Paris  was  not  one  to  backward  cast 

A  fearful  glance,  nor  pluck  sour  fruits  of  sin, 
But  still  would  seize  all  pleasures  while  they  last, 

Nor  boded  evil  ere  ill  days  begin. 

Nay,  nor  lamented  much  when  caught  therein, 
In  each  adventure  always  rinding  joy, 

And  hopeful  still  through  waves  of  war  to  win 
By  strength  of  Hector,  and  the  star  of  Troy. 


59 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Now  as  the  storms  drive  white  sea-birds  afar 
Within  green  upland  glens  to  seek  for  rest, 

So  rumours  pale  of  an  approaching  war 

Were  blown  across  the  islands  from  the  west : 
For  Agamemnon  summon'd  all  the  best 

From  towns  and  tribes  he  ruled,  and  gave  command 
That  free  men  all  should  gather  at  his  hest 

Through  coasts  and  islets  of  the  Argive  land. 


Sidonian  merchant-men  had  seen  the  fleet 

Black  war-galleys  that  sped  from  town  to  town ; 
Had  heard  the  hammers  of  the  bronze-smiths  beat 

The  long  day  through,  and  when  the  sun  went  down ; 

And  thin,  said  they,  would  show  the  leafy  crown 
On  many  a  sacred  mountain-peak  in  spring, 

For  men  had  fell'd  the  pine-trees  tall  and  brown 
To  fashion  them  curved  ships  for  seafaring. 


And  still  the  rumour  grew ;  for  heralds  came, 

Old  men  from  Argos,  bearing  holy  boughs, 
Demanding  great  atonement  for  the  shame 

And  sore  despite  done  Menelaus'  house ; 

But  homeward  soon  they  turn'd  their  scarlet  prows, 
And  all  their  weary  voyaging  was  vain ; 

For  Troy  had  bound  herself  with  awful  vows 
To  cleave  to  Helen  till  the  walls  were  ta'en. 


60 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


And  now,  like  swallows  ere  the  winter  weather, 
The  women  in  shrill  groups  were  gathering, 

With  eager  tongues  still  communing  together, 
And  many  a  taunt  at  Helen  would  they  fling, 
Ay,  through  her  innocence  she  felt  the  sting, 

And  shamed  was  now  her  gentle  face  and  sweet, 
For  e'en  the  children  evil  songs  would  sing 

To  mock  her  as  she  hasted  down  the  street. 


Also  the  men  who  worshipp'd  her  of  old 

As  she  had  been  a  goddess  from  above, 
Gazed  at  her  now  with  lustful  eyes  and  bold, 

As  she  were  nought  but  Paris'  light-o'-love; 

And  though  in  truth  they  still  were  proud  enough, 
Of  that  fair  gem  in  their  old  city  set, 

Yet  well  she  knew  that  wanton  word  and  scoff 
Went  round  the  camp-fire  when  the  warriors  met. 


There  came  a  certain  holiday  when  Troy 
Was  wont  to  send  her  noble  matrons  all, 

Young  wives  and  old,  with  clamour  and  with  joy, 
To  clothe  Athene  in  her  temple  hall, 
And  robe  her  in  a  stately  broider'd  pall. 

But  now  they  drove  fair  Helen  from  their  train, 

"Better,"  they  scream'd,  "to  cast  her  from  the  wall, 

Than  mock  the  Gods  with  offerings  in  vain." 


61 


HELEN    OF*TROY 


IX 


One  joy  she  had,  that  Paris  yet  was  true, 
Ay,  fickle  Paris,  true  unto  the  end ; 

And  in  the  court  of  Ilios  were  two 

Kind  hearts,  still  eager  Helen  to  defend, 
And  help  and  comfort  in  all  need  to  lend:  — 

The  gentle  Hector  with  soft  speech  and  mild, 
And  the  old  king  that  ever  was  her  friend, 

And  loved  her  as  a  father  doth  his  child. 


These,  though  they  knew  not  all,  these  blamed  her  not, 
But  cast  the  heavy  burden  on  the  God, 

Whose  wrath,  they  deem'd,  had  verily  waxed  hot 
Against  the  painful  race  on  earth  that  trod, 
And  in  God's  hand  was  Helen  but  the  rod 

To  scourge  a  people  that,  in  unknown  wise, 
Had  vex'd  the  far  Olympian  abode 

With  secret  sin  or  stinted  sacrifice. 


The  days  grew  into  months,  and  months  to  years, 

And  still  the  Argive  army  did  delay, 
Till  folk  in  Troia  half  forgot  their  fears, 

And  almost  as  of  old  were  glad  and  gay  ; 

And  men  and  maids  on  Ida  dared  to  stray, 
But  Helen  dwelt  within  her  inmost  room, 

And  there  from  dawning  to  declining  day, 
Wrought  at  the  patient  marvels  of  her  loom. 


62 


HELEN    OF   TROY 

XII 

Yet  even  there  in  peace  she  might  not  be : 
There  was  a  nymph,  CEnone,  in  the  hills, 

The  daughter  of  a  River-God  was  she, 

Of  Cebren,  —  that  the  mountain  silence  fills 
With  murmur'd  music,  for  the  countless  rills 

Of  Ida  meet  him,  dancing  to  the  plain, — 
Her  Paris  wooed,  yet  ignorant  of  ills, 

Among  the  shepherd's  huts,  nor  wooed  in  vain. 


Nay,  Summer  often  found  them  by  the  fold 
In  these  glad  days,  ere  Paris  was  a  king, 

And  oft  the  Autumn,  in  his  car  of  gold, 
Had  pass'd  them,  merry  at  the  vintaging : 
And  scarce  they  felt  the  breath  of  the  white  wing 

Of  Winter,  in  the  cave  where  they  would  lie 
On  beds  of  heather  by  the  fire,  till  Spring 

Should  crown  them  with  her  buds  in  passing  by. 

XIV 

For  elbow-deep  their  flowery  bed  was  strown 
With  fragrant  leaves  and  with  crush'd  asphodel, 

And  sweetly  still  the  shepherd-pipe  made  moan, 
And  many  a  tale  of  Love  they  had  to  tell, — 
How  Daphnis  loved  the  strange,  shy  maiden  well, 

And  how  she  loved  him  not,  and  how  he  died, 
And  oak-trees  moan'd  his  dirge,  and  blossoms  fell 

Like  tears  from  lindens  by  the  water-side ! 


HELEN    OF  TROY 


But  colder,  fleeter  than  the  Winter's  wing, 

Time  pass'd;  and  Paris  changed,  and  now  no  more 
GEnone  heard  him  on  the  mountain  sing, 

Not  now  she  met  him  in  the  forest  hoar. 

Nay,  but  she  knew  that  on  an  alien  shore 
An  alien  love  he  sought ;  yet  was  she  strong 

To  live,  who  deem'd  that  even  as  of  yore 
In  days  to  come  might  Paris  love  her  long. 


For  dark  (Enone  from  her  Father  drew 
A  power  beyond  all  price;  the  gift  to  deal 

With  wounded  men,  though  now  the  dreadful  dew 
Of  Death  anoint  them,  and  the  secret  seal 
Of  Fate  be  set  on  them ;  these  might  she  heal ; 

And  thus  (Enone  trusted  still  to  save 
Her  lover  at  the  point  of  death,  and  steal 

His  life  from  Helen,  and  the  amorous  grave. 


And  she  had  borne,  though  Paris  knew  it  not, 
A  child,  fair  Corythus,  to  be  her  shame, 

And  still  she  mused,  whenas  her  heart  was  hot, 
"  He  hath  no  child  by  that  Achaean  dame:" 
But  when  her  boy  unto  his  manhood  came, 

Then  sorer  yet  CEnone  did  repine, 

And  bade  him  "  fare  to  Ilios,  and  claim 

Thy  father's  love,  and  all  that  should  be  thine  I " 


64 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

XVIII 

Therewith  a  golden  bodkin  from  her  hair 

She  drew,  and  from  a  green-tress'd  birchen  tree 
She  pluck'd  a  strip  of  smooth  white  bark  and  fair, 

And  many  signs  and  woful  graved  she, 

A  message  of  the  evil  things  to  be. 
Then  deftly  closed  the  birch-bark,  fold  on  fold, 

And  bound  the  tokens  well  and  cunningly, 
Three  times  and  four  times,  with  a  thread  of  gold. 


"Give  these  to  Argive  Helen's  hand,"  she  cried: 
And  so  embraced  her  child,  and  with  no  fear 

Beheld  him  leaping  down  the  mountain-side, 
Like  a  king's  son  that  goes  to  hunt  the  deer, 
Clad  softly,  and  in  either  hand  a  spear, 

With  two  swift-footed  hounds  that  follow'd  him, 
So  leap'd  he  down  the  grassy  slopes  and  sheer, 

And  won  the  precinct  of  the  forest  dim. 

xx 

He  trod  that  ancient  path  his  sire  had  trod, 

Far,  far  below  he  saw  the  sea,  the  town ; 
He  moved  as  light  as  an  immortal  god, 

From  mansions  in  Olympus  gliding  down. 

He  left  the  shadow  of  the  forest  brown, 
And  through  the  shallow  waters  did  he  cross, 

And  stood,  ere  twilight  fell,  within  the  crown 
Of  towers,  the  sacred  keep  of  Ilios. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Now  folk  that  mark'd  him  hasting  deem'd  that  he 
Had  come  to  tell  the  host  was  on  its  way, 

As  one  that  from  the  hills  had  seen  the  sea 
Beclouded  with  the  Danaan  array, 
So  straight  to  Paris'  house  with  no  delay 

They  led  him,  and  did  eagerly  await 

Within  the  forecourt,  in  the  twilight  grey, 

To  hear  some  certain  message  of  their  fate. 


Now  Paris  was  asleep  upon  his  bed, 
Tired  with  a  listless  day;  but  all  along 

The  palace  chambers  Corythus  was  led, 

And  still  he  heard  a  music,  shrill  and  strong, 
That  seem'd  to  clamour  of  an  old-world  wrong, 

And  hearts  a  long  time  broken ;  last  they  came 
To  Helen's  bower,  the  fountain  of  the  song 

That  cried  so  loud  against  an  ancient  shame. 


And  Helen  fared  before  a  mighty  loom, 

And  sang,  and  cast  her  shuttle  wrought  of  gold, 
And  forth  unto  the  utmost  secret  room 

The  wave  of  her  wild  melody  was  roll'd ; 

And  still  she  fashion'd  marvels  manifold, 
Strange  shapes  of  fish  and  serpent,  bear  and  swan, 

The  loves  of  the  immortal  Gods  of  old, 
Wherefrom  the  peoples  of  the  world  began. 


66 


HELEN    OF   TROY 

XXIV 

Now  Helen  met  the  stranger  graciously 

With  gentle  speech,  and  bade  set  forth  a  chair 
Well  wrought  of  cedar  wood  and  ivory 

That  wise  Icmalius  had  fashion'd  fair. 

But  when  young  Corythus  had  drunk  the  rare 
Wine  of  the  princes,  and  had  broken  bread, 

Then  Helen  took  the  word,  and  bade  declare 
His  instant  tidings;  and  he  spake,  and  said, 


"  Lady  and  Queen,  I  have  a  secret  word, 
And  bear  a  token  sent  to  none  but  thee, 

Also  I  bring  a  message  to  my  Lord 
That  spoken  to  another  may  not  be." 
Then  Helen  gave  a  sign  unto  her  three 

Bower-maidens,  and  they  went  forth  from  that  place, 
Silent  they  went;  and  all  forebodingly, 

They  left  the  man  and  woman  face  to  face. 


Then  from  his  breast  the  birchen  scroll  he  took 
And  gave  to  Helen;  and  she  read  therein: 

"  Oh  thou  that  on  those  hidden  runes  dost  look, 
Hast  thou  forgotten  quite  thine  ancient  sin, 
Thy  Lord,  thy  lofty  palace,  and  thy  kin, 

Even  as  thy  Love  forgets  the  words  he  spoke 
The  strong  oath  broken  one  weak  heart  to  win, 

The  lips  that  kiss'd  him,  and  the  heart  that  broke  ? 


67 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


"  Nay,  but  methinks  thou  shalt  not  quite  forget 
The  curse  wherewith  I  curse  thee  till  I  die; 

The  tears  that  on  the  wood-nymph's  cheeks  are  wet, 
Shall  burn  thy  hateful  beauty  deathlessly, 
Nor  shall  God  raise  up  seed  to  thee ;  but  I 

Have  borne  thy  love  this  messenger:  my  son, 
Who  yet  shall  make  him  glad,  for  Time  goes  by 

And  soon  shall  thine  enchantments  all  be  done : 


"Ay,  soon  'twixt  me  and  Death  must  be  his  choice, 

And  little  in  that  hour  will  Paris  care 
For  thy  sweet  lips,  and  for  thy  singing  voice, 

Thine  arms  of  ivory,  thy  golden  hair. 

Nay,  me  will  he  embrace,  and  will  not  spare, 
But  bid  the  folk  that  hate  thee  have  their  joy, 

And  give  thee  to  the  mountain  beasts  to  tear, 
Or  burn  thy  body  on  a  tower  of  Troy." 


Even  as  she  read,  by  Aphrodite's  will 

The  cloud  roll'd  back  from  Helen's  memory: 
She  saw  the  city  of  the  rifted  hill, 

Fair  Lacedaemon,  'neath  her  mountain  high ; 

She  knew  the  swift  Eurotas  running  by 
To  mix  his  sacred  waters  with  the  sea, 

And  from  the  garden  close  she  heard  the  cry 
Of  her  beloved  child,  Hermione. 


68 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

XXX 

Then  instantly  the  horror  of  her  shame 

Fell  on  her,  and  she  saw  the. coming  years; 
Famine,  and  fire,  and  plague,  and  all  men's  blame, 

The  wounds  of  warriors  and  the  women's  fears; 

And  through  her  heart  her  sorrow  smote  like  spears, 
And  in  her  soul  she  knew  the  utmost  smart 

Of  wives  left  lonely,  sires  bereaved,  the  tears 
Of  maidens  desolate,  of  loves  that  part. 


She  drain'd  the  dregs  out  of  the  cup  of  hate ; 

The  bitterness  of  sorrow,  shame,  and  scorn ; 
Where'er  the  tongues  of  mortals  curse  their  fate, 

She  saw  herself  an  outcast  and  forlorn ; 

And  hating  sore  the  day  that  she  was  bom, 
Down  in  the  dust  she  cast  her  golden  head, 

There  with  rent  raiment  and  fair  tresses  torn, 
At  feet  of  Corythus  she  lay  for  dead. 


But  Corythus,  beholding  her  sweet  face, 

And  her  most  lovely  body  lying  low, 
Had  pity  on  her  grief  and  on  her  grace, 

Nor  heeded  now  she  was  his  mother's  foe, 

But  did  what  might  be  done  to  ease  her  woe, 
While,  as  he  thought,  with  death  for  life  she  strove, 

And  loosed  the  necklet  round  her  neck  of  snow, 
As  who  that  saw  had  deem'd,  with  hands  of  love. 


69 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  there  was  one  that  saw :  For  Paris  woke 
Half-deeming  and  half-dreaming  that  the  van 

Of  the  great  Argive  host  had  scared  the  folk, 
And  down  the  echoing  corridor  he  ran 
To  Helen's  bower,  and  there  beheld  the  man 

That  kneel'd  beside  his  lady  lying  there : 

No  word  he  spake,  but  drove  his  sword  a  span 

Through  Corythus'  fair  neck  and  cluster'd  hair. 


Then  fell  fair  Corythus,  as  falls  the  tower 
An  earthquake  shaketh  from  a  city's  crown, 

Or  as  a  tall  white  fragrant  lily-flower 

A  child  hath  in  the  garden  trampled  down, 
Or  as  a  pine-tree  in  the  forest  brown, 

Fell'd  by  the  sea-rovers  on  mountain  lands, 
When  they  to  harry  foreign  folk  are  boune, 

Taking  their  own  lives  in  their  reckless  hands. 


But  still  in  Paris  did  his  anger  burn, 

And  still  his  sword  was  lifted  up  to  slay, 

When,  like  a  lot  leap'd  forth  of  Fate's  own  urn, 
He  mark'd  the  graven  tokens  where  they  lay, 
'Mid  Helen's  hair  in  golden  disarray, 

And  looking  on  them,  knew  what  he  had  done, 
Knew  what  dire  thing  had  fallen  on  that  day, 

Knew  how  a  father's  hand  had  slain  a  son. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 

XXXVI 

Then  Paris  on  his  face  fell  grovelling, 

And  the  night  gather'd,  and  the  silence  grew 

Within  the  darkened  chamber  of  the  king. 
But  Helen  rose,  and  a  sad  breath  she  drew, 
And  her  new  woes  came  back  to  her  anew : 

Ah,  where  is  he  but  knows  the  bitter  pain 

To  wake  from  dreams,  and  find  his  sorrow  true, 

And  his  ill  life  returned  to  him  again  ! 


She  needed  none  to  tell  her  whence  it  fell, 

The  thick  red  rain  upon  the  marble  floor: 
She  knew  that  in  her  bower  she  might  not  dwell, 

Alone  with  her  own  heart  for  ever  more ; 

No  sacrifice,  no  spell,  no  priestly  lore 
Could  banish  quite  the  melancholy  ghost 

Of  Cory  thus;  a  herald  sent  before 
Them  that  should  die  for  her,  a  dreadful  host. 


But  slowly  Paris  raised  him  from  the  earth, 

And  read  her  face,  and  knew  that  she  knew  all, 
No  more  her  eyes,  in  tenderness  or  mirth, 

Should  answer  his,  in  bower  or  in  hall. 

Nay,  Love  had  fallen  when  his  child  did  fall, 
The  stream  Love  cannot  cross  ran  'twixt  them  red ; 

No  more  was  Helen  his,  whate'er  befall, 
Not  though  the  Goddess  drove  her  to  his  bed. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


This  word  he  spake,  "the  Fates  are  hard  on  us"- 

Then  bade  the  women  do  what  must  be  done 
To  the  fair  body  of  dead  Corythus. 

And  then  he  hurl'd  into  the  night  alone, 

Wailing  unto  the  spirit  of  his  son, 
That  somewhere  in  dark  mist  and  sighing  wind 

Must  dwell,  nor  yet  to  Hades  had  it  won, 
Nor  quite  had  left  the  world  of  men  behind. 


But  wild  CEnone  by  the  mountain-path 
Saw  not  her  son  returning  to  the  wold, 

And  now  was  she  in  fear,  and  now  in  wrath 
She  cried,  "  He  hath  forgot  the  mountain  fold, 
And  goes  in  Ilios  with  a  crown  of  gold : " 

But  even  then  she  heard  men's  axes  smite 
Against  the  beeches  slim  and  ash-trees  old, 

These  ancient  trees  wherein  she  did  delight. 


Then  she  arose  and  silently  as  Sleep, 

Unseen  she  follow'd  the  slow-rolling  wain, 
Beneath  an  ashen  sky  that  'gan  to  weep, 

Too  heavy  laden  with  the  latter  rain ; 

And  all  the  folk  of  Troy  upon  tne  plain 
She  found,  all  gather'd  round  a  funeral  pyre, 

And  thereon  lay  her  son,  her  darling  slain, 
The  goodly  Corythus,  her  heart's  desire ! 


72 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Among  the  spices  and  fair  robes  he  lay, 

His  arm  beneath  his  head,  as  though  he  slept. 
For  so  the  Goddess  wrought  that  no  decay, 

No  loathly  thing  about  his  body  crept; 

And  all  the  people  look'd  on  him  and  wept, 
And,  weeping,  Paris  lit  the  pine-wood  dry, 

And  lo,  a  rainy  wind  arose  and  swept 
The  flame  and  fragrance  far  into  the  sky. 


But  when  the  force  of  flame  was  burning  low, 
Then  did  they  drench  the  pyre  with  ruddy  wine, 

And  the  white  bones  of  Corythus  bestow 

Within  a  gold  cruse,  wrought  with  many  a  sign, 
And  wrapp'd  the  cruse  about  with  linen  fine 

And  bare  it  to  the  tomb:  when,  lo,  the  wild 
CEnone  sprang,  with  burning  eyes  divine, 

And  shriek'd  unto  the  slayer  of  her  child: 


"  Oh  Thou,  that  like  a  God  art  sire  and  slayer, 

That  like  a  God,  dost  give  and  take  away ! 
Methinks  that  even  now  I  hear  the  prayer 

Thou  shalt  beseech  me  with,  some  later  day ; 

When  all  the  world  to  thy  dim  eyes  grow  grey, 
And  thou  shalt  crave  thy  healing  at  my  hand, 

Then  gladly  will  I  mock,  and  say  thee  nay, 
And  watch  thine  hours  run  down  like  running  sand ! 


73 


HELEN    OF   TROY 
XLV. 

"  Yea,  thou  shalt  die,  and  leave  thy  love  behind, 
And  little  shall  she  love  thy  memory ! 

But,  oh  ye  foolish  people,  deaf  and  blind, 

What  Death  is  coming  on  you  from  the  sea  ? " 
Then  all  men  turned,  and  lo,  upon  the  lee 

Of  Tenedos,  beneath  the  driving  rain, 

The  countless  Argive  ships  were  racing  free, 

The  wind  and  oarsmen  speeding  them  amain. 


Then  from  the  barrow  and  the  burial, 

Back  like  a  bursting  torrent  all  men  fled 
Back  to  the  city  and  the  sacred  wall. 

But  Paris  stood,  and  lifted  not  his  head. 

Alone  he  stood,  and  brooded  o'er  the  dead, 
As  broods  a  lion,  when  a  shaft  hath  flown, 

And  through  the  strong  heart  of  his  mate  hath  sped, 
Then  will  he  face  the  hunters  all  alone. 


But  soon  the  voice  of  men  on  the  sea-sand 

Came  round  him ;  and  he  turned,  and  gazed,  and  lo ! 

The  Argive  ships  were  dashing  on  the  strand: 
Then  stealthily  did  Paris  bend  his  bow, 
And  on  the  string  he  laid  a  shaft  of  woe, 

And  drew  it  to  the  point,  and  aim'd  it  well. 
Singing  it  sped,  and  through  a  shield  did  go, 

And  from  his  barque  Protesilaus  fell. 


74 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Half  gladdened  by  the  omen,  through  the  plain 

Went  Paris  to  the  walls  and  mighty  gate,         % 
And  little  heeded  he  that  arrowy  rain 

The  Argive  bowmen  shower'd  in  helpless  hate. 

Nay;  not  yet  feather'd  was  the  shaft  of  Fate, 
His  bane,  the  gift  of  mighty  Heracles 

To  Philoctetes,  lying  desolate, 
Within  a  far  off  island  of  the  seas. 


75 


The  war  round  Troy,  and  how  many 
brave  men  felt,  and  chiefly  Sarpedon, 
Patroclus,  Hector,  Memnon,  and  Achilles. 
The  coming  of  the  Amazon,  and  the 
wounding  of  Paris,  and  his  death,  and 
concerning  the  good  end  that  CEnone 
made. 


BOOK  V 

THE  WAR 


FOR  ten  long  years  the  Argive  leaguer  lay 
Round  Priam's  folk, and  wrought  them  many  woes, 
While,  as  a  lion  crouch'd  above  his  prey, 

The  Trojans  yet  made  head  against  their  foes; 
And  as  the  swift  sea-water  ebbs  and  flows 
Between  the  Straits  of  Helle  and  the  main, 
Even  so  the  tide  of  battle  sank  and  rose, 
And  fill'd  with  waifs  of  war  the  Ilian  plain. 


And  horse  on  horse  was  driven,  as  wave  on  wave ; 

Like  rain  upon  the  deep  the  arrows  fell, 
And  like  the  wind,  the  war-cry  of  the  brave 

Rang  out  above  the  battle's  ebb  and  swell, 

And  long  the  tale  of  slain,  and  sad  to  tell; 
Yet  seem'd  the  end  scarce  nearer  than  of  yore 

When  nine  years  pass'd  and  still  the  citadel 
Frown'd  on  the  Argive  huts  beside  the  shore. 


79 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  still  the  watchers  on  the  city's  crown 

Afar  from  sacred  Ilios  might  spy 
The  flame  from  many  a  fallen  subject  town 

Flare  on  the  starry  verges  of  the  sky, 

And  still  from  rich  Maeonia  came  the  cry 
Of  cities  sack'd  where'er  Achilles  led. 

Yet  none  the  more  men  deem'd  the  end  was  nigh 
While  knightly  Hector  fought  unvanquished. 


But  ever  as  each  dawn  bore  grief  afar, 

And  further  back,  wax'd  Paris  glad  and  gay, 
And  on  the  fringes  of  the  cloud  of  war 

His  arrows,  like  the  lightning,  still  would  play; 

Yet  fled  he  Menelaus  on  a  day, 
And  there  had  died,  but  Aphrodite's  power 

Him  in  a  golden  cloud  did  safe  convey 
Within  the  walls  of  Helen's  fragrant  bower. 


But  she,  in  longing  for  her  lord  and  home, 
And  scorn  of  her  wild  lover,  did  withdraw 

From  all  men's  eyes:  but  in  the. night  would  roam 
Till  drowsy  watchmen  of  the  city  saw 
A  shadowy  shape  that  chill'd  the  night  with  awe, 

Treading  the  battlements ;  and  like  a  ghost, 
She  stretch'd  her  lovely  arms  without  a  flaw, 

In  shame  and  longing,  to  the  Argive  host. 


80 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


But  all  day  long  within  her  bower  she  wept, 

Still  dreaming  of  the  dames  renown'd  of  old, 
Whom  hate  or  love  of  the  Immortals  swept 

Within  the  toils  of  Ate  manifold ; 

And  most  she  loved  the  ancient  tales  that  told 
How  the  great  Gods,  at  length  to  pity  stirr'd, 

Changed  Niobe  upon  the  mountains  cold, 
To  a  cold  stone ;  and  Procne  to  a  bird, 


And  Myrrha  to  an  incense-breathing  tree ;  — 

"  And  ah,"  she  murmur'd, "  that  the  Gods  were  kind, 

And  bade  the  Harpies  lay  their  hands  on  me, 
And  bear  me  with  the  currents  of  the  wind 
To  the  dim  end  of  all  things,  and  the  blind 

Land  where  the  Ocean  turneth  in  his  bed : 
Then  should  I  leave  mine  evil  days  behind, 

And  Sleep  should  fold  his  wings  above  my  head." 

VIII 

And  once  she  heard  a  Trojan  woman  bless 
The  fair-haired  Menelaus,  her  good  lord, 

As  brave  among  brave  men,  not  merciless, 
Not  swift  to  slay  the  captives  of  his  sword, 
Nor  wont  was  he  to  win  the  gold  abhorr'd 

Of  them  that  sell  their  captives  over  sea, 

And  Helen  sighed,  and  bless'd  her  for  that  word, 

"  Yet  will  he  ne'er  be  merciful  to  me !  " 


81 


HELEN    OF  TROY 


In  no  wise  found  she  comfort ;  to  abide 

In  Ilios  was  to  dwell  with  shame  and  fear, 
And  if  unto  the  Argive  host  she  hied, 

Then  should  she  die  by  him  that  was  most  dear. 

And  still  the  days  dragg'd  on  with  bitter  cheer, 
Till  even  the  great  Gods  had  little  joy, 

So  fast  their  children  fell  beneath  the  spear, 
Below  the  windy  battlements  of  Troy. 


Yet  many  a  prince  of  south  lands,  or  of  east, 
For  dark  Cassandra's  love  came  trooping  in, 

And  Priam  made  them  merry  at  the  feast, 

And  all  night  long  they  dream'd  of  wars  to  win, 
And  with  the  morning  hurl'd  into  the  din, 

And  cried  their  lady's  name  for  battle-cry, 
And  won  no  more  than  this :  for  Paris'  sin, 

By  Diomede's  or  Aias'  hand  to  die. 


But  for  one  hour  within  the  night  of  woes 

The  hope  of  Troy  burn'd  steadfast  as  a  star; 
When  strife  among  the  Argive  lords  arose, 

And  dread  Achilles  held  him  from  the  war; 

Yea,  and  Apollo  from  his  golden  car 
And  silver  bow  his  shafts  of  evil  sped, 

And  all  the  plain  was  darken'd,  near  and  far, 
With  smoke  above  the  pyres  of  heroes  dead. 


82 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Any  many  a  time  through  vapour  of  that  smoke 

The  shafts  of  Troy  fell  fast ;  and  on  the  plain 
All  night  the  Trojan  watch  fires  burn'd  and  broke 

Like  evil  stars  athwart  a  mist  of  rain. 

And  through  the  arms  and  blood,  and  through  the  slain, 
Like  wolves  among  the  fragments  of  the  fight, 

Crept  spies  to  slay  whoe'er  forgat  his  pain 
One  hour,  and  fell  on  slumber  in  the  night. 


And  once,  when  wounded  chiefs  their  tents  did  keep, 

And  only  Aias  might  his  weapons  wield, 
Came  Hector  with  his  host,  and  smiting  deep, 

Brake  bow  and  spear,  brake  axe  and  glaive  and  shield, 

Bulwark  and  battlement  must  rend  and  yield, 
And  by  the  ships  he  smote  the  foe  and  cast 

Fire  on  the  ships ;  and  o'er  the  stricken  field, 
The  Trojans  saw  that  flame  arise  at  lastl 

XIV 

But  when  Achilles  saw  the  soaring  flame, 

And  knew  the  ships  in  peril,  suddenly 
A  change  upon  his  wrathful  spirit  came, 

Nor  will'd  he  that  the  Danaans  should  die : 

But  call'd  his  Myrmidons,  and  with  a  cry 
They  follow'd  where,  like  foam  on  a  sea-wave 

Patroclus'  crest  was  dancing  white  and  high, 
Above  the  tide  that  back  the  Trojans  drave. 

83 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


But  like  a  rock  amid  the  shifting  sands, 

And  changing  springs,  and  tumult  of  the  deep, 

Sarpedon  stood,  till  'neath  Patroclus'  hands, 
Smitten  he  fell;  then  Death  and  gentle  Sleep 
Bare  him  from  forth  the  battle  to  the  steep 

Where  shines  his  castle  o'er  the  Lycian  dell ; 
There  hath  he  burial  due,  while  all  folk  weep 

Around  the  kindly  Prince  that  loved  them  well. 


Not  unavenged  he  fell,  nor  all  alone 

To  Hades  did  his  soul  indignant  fly, 
For  soon  was  keen  Patroclus  overthrown 

By  Hector,  and  the  God  of  archery ; 

And  Hector  stripp'd  his  shining  panoply, 
Bright  arms  Achilles  lent :  ah  !  naked  then, 

Forgetful  wholly  of  his  chivalry, 
Patroclus  lay,  nor  heard  the  strife  of  men. 


Then  Hector  from  the  war  a  little  space 
Withdrew,  and  clad  him  in  Achilles'  gear, 

And  braced  the  gleaming  helmet  o'er  his  face, 
And  grasp'd  the  shield ;  but  not  the  Pelian  spear 
He  won  —  the  lance  that  makes  the  boldest  fear; 

And  home  his  comrades  bare  his  arms  of  gold, 
Those  Priam  once  had  worn,  his  father  dear, 

But  in  his  father's  arms  he  waxed  not  old! 


84 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Then  round  Patroclus'  body,  like  a  tide 
That  storms  the  swollen  outlet  of  a  stream 

When  the  winds  blow,  and  the  rains  fall,  and  wide 
The  river  runs,  and  white  the  breakers  gleam, — 
Trojans  and  Argives  battled  till  the  beam 

Of  Helios  was  sinking  to  the  wave, 

And  now  they  near'd  the  ships:  yet  few  could  deem 

That  arms  of  Argos  might  the  body  save. 

XIX 

But  even  then  the  tidings  sore  were  borne 

To  great  Achilles,  of  Patroclus  dead, 
And  all  his  goodly  raiment  hath  he  torn, 

And  cast  the  dust  upon  his  golden  head, 

And  many  a  tear  and  bitter  did  he  shed. 
Ay;  there  by  his  own  sword  had  he  been  slain, 

But  swift  his  Goddess-mother,  Thetis,  sped 
Forth  with  her  lovely  sea-nymphs  from  the  main. 


For,  as  a  mother  when  her  young  child  calls 
Hearkens  to  that,  and  hath  no  other  care : 

So  Thetis,  from  her  green  and  windless  halls 
Rose,  at  the  first  word  of  Achilles'  prayer, 
To  comfort  him,  and  promise  gifts  of  fair 

New  armour  wrought  by  an  immortal  hand ; 
Then  like  a  silver  cloud  she  scaled  the  air, 

Where  bright  the  dwellings  of  Olympus  stand. 


HELEN    OK  TROY 


But,  as  a  beacon  from  a  'leaguer'd  town 
Within  a  sea-girt  isle,  leaps  suddenly, 

A  cloud  by  day ;  but  when  the  sun  goes  down, 
The  tongues  of  fire  flash  out,  and  soar  on  high, 
To  summon  warlike  men  that  dwell  thereby 

And  bid  them  bring  a  rescue  over-seas, — 
So  now  Athene  sent  a  flame  to  fly 

From  brow  and  temples  of  Aeacides. 


Then  all  unarm'd  he  sped,  and  through  the  throng, 
He  pass'd  to  the  dyke's  edge,  beyond  the  wall, 

Nor  leap'd  the  ranks  of  fighting  men  among, 
But  shouted  clearer  than  the  clarion's  call 
When  foes  on  a  beleaguer'd  city  fall. 

Three  times  he  cried,  and  terror  fell  on  these 
That  heard  him;  and  the  Trojans,  one  and  all, 

Fled  from  that  shouting  of  Aeacides. 


Backward  the  Trojans  reel'd  in  headlong  flight, 
Chariots  and  men,  and  left  their  bravest  slain ; 

And  the  sun  fell ;  but  Troy  through  all  the  night 
Watch'd  by  her  fires  upon  the  Ilian  plain, 
For  Hector  did  the  sacred  walls  disdain 

Of  Ilios;  nor  knew  that  he  should  stand 
Ere  night  return'd,  and  burial  crave  in  vain, 

Unarm'd,  forsaken,  at  Achilles'  hand. 


86 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


But  all  that  night  within  his  chamber  high 

Hephaestus  made  his  iron  anvils  ring; 
And,  ere  the  dawn,  had  wrought  a  panoply, 

The  goodliest  ever  worn  by  mortal  king. 

This  to  the  Argive  camp  did  Thetis  bring, 
And  when  her  child  had  proved  it,  like  the  star 

That  heralds  day,  he  went  forth  summoning 
The  host  Achaean  to  delight  of  war. 


And  as  a  mountain  torrent  leaves  its  bed, 

And  seaward  sweeps  the  toils  of  men  in  spate, 

Or  as  a  forest-fire,  that  overhead 

Burns  in  the  boughs,  a  thing  insatiate, 
So  raged  the  fierce  Achilles  in  his  hate ; 

And  Xanthus,  angry  for  his  Trojans  slain, 

Brake  forth,  while  fire  and  wind  made  desolate 

What  war  and  wave  had  spared  upon  the  plain. 


Now  through  the  fume  and  vapour  of  the  smoke 
Between  the  wind's  voice  and  the  water's  cry, 

The  battle  shouting  of  the  Trojans  broke, 
And  reached  the  Ilian  walls  confusedly, 
But  over  soon  the  folk  that  watch'd  might  spy 

Thin  broken  bands  that  fled,  avoiding  death, 
Yet  many  a  man  beneath  the  spear  must  die, 

Ere  by  the  sacred  gateway  they  drew  breath. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  as  when  fire  doth  on  a  forest  fall 

And  hot  winds  bear  it  raging  in  its  flight, 
And  beechen  boughs,  and  pines  are  ruin'd  all, 

So  raged  Achilles'  anger  in  that  fight; 

And  many  an  empty  car,  with  none  to  smite 
The  madden'd  horses,  o'er  the  bridge  of  war 

Was  wildly  whirled,  and  many  a  maid's  delight 
That  day  to  the  red  wolves  was  dearer  far. 


Some  Muse  that  loved  not  Troy  hath  done  thee  wrong, 
Homer  I  who  whisper'd  thee  that  Hector  fled 

Thrice  round  the  sacred  walls  he  kept  so  long  ; 
Nay,  when  he  saw  his  people  vanquished 
Alone  he  stood  for  Troy  ;  alone  he  sped 

One  moment,  to  the  struggle  of  the  spear, 
And,  by  the  Gods  deserted,  fell  and  bled, 

A  warrior  stainless  of  reproach  and  fear. 


Then  all  the  people  from  the  battlement 

Beheld  what  dreadful  things  Achilles  wrought, 

For  on  the  body  his  revenge  he  spent, 

The  anger  of  the  high  Gods  heeding  nought, 
To  whom  was  Hector  dearest,  while  he  fought, 

Of  all  the  Trojan  men  that  were  their  joy, 

But  now  no  more  their  favour  might  be  bought 

By  savour  of  his  hecatombs  in  Troy. 


88 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


So  for  twelve  days  rejoiced  the  Argive  host, 

And  now  Patroclus  hath  to  Hades  won, 
But  Hector  naked  lay,  and  still  his  ghost 

Must  wail  where  waters  of  Cocytus  run ; 

Till  Priam  did  what  no  man  born  hath  done, 
Who  dared  to  pass  among  the  Argive  bands, 

And  clasp'd  the  knees  of  him  that  slew  his  son, 
And  kiss'd  his  terrible  man-slaying  hands. 


At  such  a  price  was  Hector's  body  sent 

To  Ilios,  where  the  women  wail'd  him  shrill; 

And  Helen's  sorrow  brake  into  lament 
As  bursts  a  lake  the  barriers  of  a  hill, 
For  lost,  lost,  lost  was  that  one  friend  who  still 

Stood  by  her  with  kind  speech  and  gentle  heart, 
The  sword  of  war,  pure  faith,  and  steadfast  will, 

That  strove  to  keep  all  evil  things  apart; 
***** 

XXXII 

And  so  men  buried  Hector.     But  they  came, 
The  Amazons,  from  frozen  fields  afar. 

A  match  for  heroes  in  the  dreadful  game, 
The  women  darlings  of  the  God  of  War, 
Whose  coming  was  to  Priam  dearer  far 

Than  light  to  him  that  is  a  long  while  blind, 
When  leech's  hand  hath  taen  away  the  bar 

That  vex'd  him,  or  the  healing  God  is  kind ; 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  Troy  was  glad,  and  with  the  morning  light 

The  Amazons  went  forth  to  slay  and  slay ; 
And  wondrously  they  drave  the  foe  in  flight, 

Until  the  Sun  had  wander'd  half  his  way; 

But  when  he  stoop'd  to  twilight  and  the  grey 
Hour  when  men  loose  the  steer  beneath  the  yoke, 

No  more  Achilles  held  him  from  the  fray, 
But  dreadful  through  the  women's  ranks  he  broke. 


Then  comes  eclipse  upon  the  crescent  shield, 
And  death  on  them  that  bear  it,  and  they  fall 

One  here,  one  there,  about  the  stricken  field, 
As  in  that  art,  of  Love  memorial, 
Which  moulders  on  the  holy  Carian  wall. 

Ay,  still  we  see,  still  love,  still  pity  there 
The  warrior-maids,  so  brave,  so  god-like  tall, 

In  Time's  despite  imperishably  fair. 

XXXV 

But,  as  a  dove  that  braves  a  falcon,  stood 

Penthesilea,  wrath  outcasting  fear, 
Or  as  a  hind,  that  in  the  darkling  wood 

Withstands  a  lion  for  her  younglings  dear; 

So  stood  the  girl  before  Achilles'  spear; 
Tn  vain,  for  singing  from  his  hand  it  sped, 

And  crash'd  through  shield  and  breastplate  till  the  sheer 
Cold  bronze  drank  blood,  and  down  the  queen  fell  dead. 


y° 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


XXXVI 


Then  from  her  locks  the  helm  Achilles  tore 
And  boasted  o'er  the  slain ;  but  lo,  the  face 

Of  her  thus  lying  in  the  dust  and  gore 
Seem'd  lovelier  than  is  the  maiden  grace 
Of  Artemis,  when  weary  from  the  chase, 

She  sleepeth  in  a  haunted  dell  unknown. 
And  all  the  Argives  marvell'd  for  a  space, 

But  most  Achilles  made  a  heavy  moan  : 


And  in  his  heart  there  came  the  weary  thought 
Of  all  that  was,  and  all  that  might  have  been, 

Of  all  the  sorrow  that  his  sword  had  wrought, 
Of  Death  that  now  drew  near  him  :  of  the  green 
Vales  of  Larissa,  where,  with  such  a  queen, 

With  such  a  love  as  now  his  spear  had  slain, 
He  had  been  happy,  who  must  wind  the  skein 

Of  grievous  wars,  and  ne'er  be  glad  again. 


Yea,  now  wax'd  Fate  half  weary  of  her  game, 
And  had  no  care  but  aye  to  kill  and  kill, 

And  many  young  kings  to  the  battle  came, 
And  of  that  joy  they  quickly  had  their  fill, 
And  last  came  Memnon :  and  the  Trojans  still 

Took  heart,  like  wearied  mariners  that  see 

(Long  toss'd  on  unknown  waves  at  the  winds'  will) 

Through  clouds  the  gleaming  crest  of  Belike". 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


For  Memnon  was  the  child  of  the  bright  Dawn, 

A  Goddess  wedded  to  a  mortal  king, 
Who  dwells  for  ever  on.  the  shores  withdrawn 

That  border  on  the  land  of  sun-rising; 

And  he  was  nurtured  nigh  the  sacred  spring 
That  is  the  hidden  fountain  of  all  seas, 

By  them  that  in  the  Gods'  own  garden  sing, 
The  lily-maidens  call'd  Hesperides. 


But  him  the  child  of  Thetis  in  the  fight 
Met  on  a  windy  winter  day,  when  high 

The  dust  was  whirled,  and  wrapp'd  them  like  the  night 
That  falleth  on  the  mountains  stealthily 
When  the  floods  come,  and  down  their  courses  dry 

The  torrents  roar,  and  lightning  flasheth  far: 
So  rang,  so  shown  their  harness  terribly 

Beneath  the  blinding  thunder-cloud  of  war. 


Then  the  Dawn  shudder'd  on  her  golden  throne, 
And  called  unto  the  West  Wind,  and  he  blew 

And  brake  the  cloud  asunder ;  and  alone 

Achilles  stood,  but  Memnon,  smitten  through, 
Lay  beautiful  amid  the  dreadful  dew 

Of  battle,  and  a  deathless  heart  was  fain 
Of  tears,  to  Gods  impossible,  that  drew 

From  mortal  hearts  a  little  of  their  pain. 


92 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


But  now,  their  leader  slain,  the  Trojans  fled, 
And  fierce  Achilles  drove  them  in  his  hate, 

Avenging  still  his  dear  Patroclus  dead, 

Nor  knew  the  hour  with  his  own  doom  was  great, 
Nor  trembled,  standing  in  the  Scaean  gate, 

Where  ancient  prophecy  foretold  his  fall ; 
Then  suddenly  there  sped  the  bolt  of  Fate, 

And  smote  Achilles  by  the  Ilian  wall : 


From  Paris'  bow  it  sped,  and  even  there, 

Even  as  he  grasp'd  the  skirts  of  victory, 
Achilles  fell,  nor  any  man  might  dare 

From  forth  the  Trojan  gateway  to  draw  nigh; 

But,  as  the  woodmen  watch  a  lion  die, 
Pierced  with  the  hunter's  arrow,  nor  come  near 

Till  Death  hath  veil'd  his  eyelids  utterly, 
Even  so  the  Trojans  held  aloof  in  fear. 


But  there  his  fellows  on  his  wondrous  shield 
Laid  the  fair  body  of  Achilles  slain, 

And  sadly  bare  him  through  the  trampled  field, 
And  lo  !  the  deathless  maidens  of  the  main 
Rose  up,  with  Thetis,  from  the  windy  plain, 

And  round  the  dead  man  beautiful  they  cried, 
Lamenting,  and  with  melancholy  strain 

The  sweet-voiced  Muses  mournfully  replied. 


93 


HELEN   OF   TROY 
XLV 

Yea,  Muses  and  Sea-maidens  sang  his  dirge, 
And  mightily  the  chant  arose  and  shrill, 

And  wondrous  echoes  answer'd  from  the  surge 
Of  the  grey  sea,  and  from  the  holy  hill 
Of  Ida;  and  the  heavy  clouds  and  chill 

Were  gathering  like  mourners,  sad  and  slow, 
And  Zeus  did  thunder  mightily,  and  fill 

The  dells  and  glades  of  Ida  deep  with  snow. 


Now  Paris  was  not  sated  with  the  fame 

And  rich  reward  Troy  gave  his  archery ; 
But  o'er  the  wine  he  boasted  that  the  game 

That  very  night  he  deem'd  to  win,  or  die ; 

"For  scarce  their  watch  the  tempest  will  defy," 
He  said,  "and  all  undream'd  of  might  we  go, 

And  fall  upon  the  Argives  where  they  lie, 
Unseen,  unheard,  amid  the  silent  snow." 

XLVII 

So,  flush'd  with  wine,  and  clad  in  raiment  white 
Above  their  mail,  the  young  men  follow'd  him, 

Their  guide  a  fading  camp-fire  in  the  night, 
And  the  sea's  moaning  in  the  distance  dim, 
And  still  with  eddying  snow  the  air  did  swim, 

And  darkly  did  they  wend  they  knew  not  where, 
White  in  that  cursed  night :  an  army  grim, 

'Wilder'd  with  wine,  and  blind  with  whirling  air. 


94 


HELEN    OF   TROY 

XLVIII 

There  was  an  outcast  in  the  Argive  host, 

One  Philoctetes;  whom  Odysseus'  wile, 
(For,  save  he  help'd,  the  Leaguer  all  was  lost,) 

Drew  from  his  lair  within  the  Lemnian  isle. 

But  him  the  people,  as  a  leper  vile, 
Hated,  and  drave  to  a  lone  hut  afar, 

For  wounded  sore  was  he,  and  many  a  while 
His  cries  would  wake  the  host  foredone  with  war. 


Now  Philoctetes  was  an  archer  wight ; 

But  in  his  quiver  had  he  little  store 
Of  arrows  tipp'd  with  bronze,  and  feather'd  bright ; 

Nay,  his  were  blue  with  mould,  and  fretted  o'er 

With  many  a  spell  Melampus  wrought  of  yore, 
Singing  above  his  task  a  song  of  bane; 

And  they  were  venom'd  with  the  Centaur's  gore, 
And  tipp'd  with  bones  of  men  a  long  while  slain. 


This  wretch  for  very  pain  might  seldom  sleep, 
And  that  night  slept  not :  in  the  moaning  blast 

He  deem'd  the  dead  about  his  hut  did  creep, 
And  silently  he  rose,  and  round  him  cast 
His  raiment  foul,  and  from  the  door  he  pass'd, 

And  peer'd  into  the  night,  and  soothly  heard 
A  whisper'd  voice ;  then  gripp'd  his  arrows  fast 

And  strung  his  bow,  and  cried  a  bitter  word : 


95 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


"Art  thou  a  gibbering  ghost  with  war  outworn, 

And  thy  faint  life  in  Hades  not  begun  ? 
Art  thou  a  man  that  holdst  my  grief  in  scorn, 

And  yet  dost  live,  and  look  upon  the  sun  ? 

If  man,  —  methinks  thy  pleasant  days  are  done, 
And  thou  shalt  writhe  in  torment  worse  than  mine ; 

If  ghost,  —  new  pain  in  Hades  hast  thou  won, 
And  there  with  double  woe  shalt  surely  pine." 


He  spake,  and  drew  the  string,  and  sent  a  shaft 

At  venture  through  the  midnight  and  the  snow, 
A  little  while  he  listen'd,  then  he  laugh'd 

Within  himself,  a  dreadful  laugh  and  low ; 

For  over  well  the  answer  did  he  know 
That  midnight  gave  his  message,  the  sharp  cry 

And  armour  rattling  on  a  fallen  foe 
Who  now  was  learning  what  it  is  to  die. 

LIII 

Then  Philoctetes  craw'l'd  into  his  den 

And  hugg'd  himself  against  the  bitter  cold, 

While  round  their  leader  came  the  Trojan  men 
And  bound  his  hurt,  and  bare  him  o'er  the  wold, 
Back  to  the  lights  of  Ilios ;  but  the  gold 

Of  Dawn  was  breaking  on  the  mountains  white, 
Or  ere  they  won  within  the  guarded  fold, 

Long  'wilder'd  in  the  tempest  and  the  night. 


96 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  through  the  gate,  and  through  the  silent  street, 

And  houses  where  men  dream'd  of  war  no  more, 
The  bearers  wander'd  with  their  weary  feet, 

And  Paris  to  his  high-roof'd  house  they  bore. 

But  vainly  leeches  on  his  wound  did  pore, 
And  vain  was  Argive  Helen's  magic  song, 

Ah,  vain  her  healing  hands,  and  all  her  lore, 
To  help  the  life  that  wrought  her  endless  wrong. 

LV 

Slow  pass'd  the  fever'd  hours,  until  the  grey 

Cold  light  was  paling,  and  a  sullen  glow 
Of  livid  yellow  crown'd  the  dying  day, 

And  brooded  on  the  wastes  of  mournful  snow. 

Then  Paris  whisper'd  faintly,  "  I  must  go 
And  face  that  wild  wood-maiden  of  the  hill; 

For  none  but  she  can  win  from  overthrow 
Troy's  life,  and  mine  that  guards  it,  if  she  will." 

LVI 

So  through  the  dumb  white  meadows,  deep  with  snow 
They  bore  him  on  a  pallet  shrouded  white, 

And  sore  they  dreaded  lest  an  ambush'd  foe 

Should  hear  him  moan,  or  mark  the  moving  light 
That  waved  before  their  footsteps  in  the  night ; 

And  much  they  joy'd  when  Ida's  knees  were  won, 
And  'neath  the  pines  upon  an  upland  height, 

They  watch'd  the  star  that  heraldeth  the  sun. 


97 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


For  under  woven  branches  of  the  pine, 
The  soft  dry  needles  like  a  carpet  spread, 

And  high  above  the  arching  boughs  did  shine 
In  frosty  fret  of  silver,  that  the  red 
New  dawn  fired  into  gold-work  overhead : 

Within  that  vale  where  Paris  oft  had  been 
With  fair  CEnone,  ere  the  hills  he  fled 

To  be  the  sinful  lover  of  a  Queen. 


Not  here  they  found  CEnone :  "  Nay,  not  here," 

Said  Paris,  faint  and  low,  "  shall  she  be  found ; 
Nay,  bear  me  up  the  mountain,  where  the  drear 

Winds  walk  for  ever  on  a  haunted  ground. 

Methinks  I  hear  her  sighing  in  their  sound; 
Or  some  God  calls  me  there,  a  dying  man. 

Perchance  my  latest  journeying  is  bound 
Back  where  the  sorrow  of  my  life  began." 


They  reach'd  the  gateway  of  that  highest  glen 
And  halted,  wond'ring  what  the  end  should  be ; 

But  Paris  whisper'd  Helen,  while  his  men 

Fell  back :     "  Here  judged  I  Gods,  here  sT^alt  thou  see 
What  judgment  mine  old  love  will  pass  on  me. 

But  hide  thee  here;  thou  soon  the  end  shalt  know, 
Whether  the  Gods  at  length  will  set  thee  free 

From  that  old  net  they  wove  so  long  ago." 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


Ah,  there  with  wide  snows  round  her  like  a  pall, 

CEnone  crouch'd  in  sable  robes ;  as  still 
As  Winter  brooding  o'er  the  Summer's  fall, 

Or  Niobe  upon  her  haunted  hill, 

A  woman  changed  to  stone  by  grief,  where  chill 
The  rain-drops  fall  like  tears,  and  the  wind  sighs: 

And  Paris  deem'd  he  saw  a  deadly  will 
Unmoved  in  wild  CEnone's  frozen  eyes. 


"  Nay,  prayer  to  her  were  vain  as  prayer  to  Fate," 

He  murmur'd,  almost  glad  that  it  was  so, 
Like  some  sick  man  that  need  no  longer  wait, 

But  his  pain  lulls  as  Death  draws  near  his  woe. 

And  Paris  beckon'd  to  his  men,  and  slow 
They  bore  him  dying  from  that  fatal  place, 

And  did  not  turn  again,  and  did  not  know 
The  soft  repentance  on  CEnone's  face. 


But  Paris  spake  to  Helen :  "  Long  ago, 

Dear,  we  were  glad,  who  never  more  shall  be 

Together,  where  the  west  winds  fainter  blow 
Round  that  Elysian  island  of  the  sea, 
Where  Zeus  from  evil  days  shall  set  thee  free. 

Nay,  kiss  me  once,  it  is  a  weary  while, 

Ten  weary  years  since  thou  hast  smiled  on  me, 

But,  Helen,  say  good-bye,  with  thine  old  smile! " 


99 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  as  the  dying  sunset  through  the  rain 

Will  flush  with  rosy  glow  a  mountain  height, 
Even  so,  at  his  last  smile,  a  blush  again 

Pass'd  over  Helen's  face,  so  changed  and  white ; 

And  through  her  tears  she  smiled,  his  last  delight, 
The  last  of  pleasant  life  he  knew,  for  grey 

The  veil  of  darkness  gather'd,  and  the  night 
Closed  o'er  his  head,  and  Paris  pass'd  away. 


Then  for  one  hour  in  Helen's  heart  re-born, 
Awoke  the  fatal  love  that  was  of  old, 

Ere  she  knew  all,  and  the  cold  cheeks  outworn, 
She  kiss'd,  she  kiss'd  the  hair  of  wasted  gold, 
The  hands  that  ne'er  her  body  should  enfold ; 

Then  slow  she  follow'd  where  the  bearers  led, 
Follow'd  dead  Paris  through  the  frozen  wold 

Back  to  the  town  where  all  men  wish'd  her  dead. 

LXV 

Perchance  it  was  a  sin,  I  know  not,  this  1 
Howe'er  it  be,  she  had  a  woman's  heart, 

And  not  without  a  tear,  without  a  kiss, 

Without  some  strange  new  birth  of  the  old  smart, 
From  her  old  love  of  the  brief  days  could  part 

For  ever ;  though  the  dead  meet,  ne'er  shall  they 
Meet,  and  be  glad  by  Aphrodite's  art, 

Whose  souls  have  wander'd  each  its  several  way. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


And  now  was  come  the  day  when  on  a  pyre 

Men  laid  fair  Paris,  in  a  broider'd  pall, 
And  fragrant  spices  cast  into  the  fire, 

And  round  the  flame  slew  many  an  Argive  thrall. 

When,  like  a  ghost,  there  came  among  them  all, 
A  woman,  once  beheld  by  them  of  yore, 

When  first  through  storm  and  driving  rain  the  tall 
Black  ships  of  Argos  dash'd  upon  the  shore. 


Not  now  in  wrath  CEnone  came ;  but  fair 

Like  a  young  bride  when  nigh  her  bliss  she  knows, 

And  in  the  soft  night  of  her  fallen  hair 

Shone  flowers  like  stars,  more  white  than  Ida's  snows, 
And  scarce  men  dared  to  look  on  her,  of  those 

The  pyre  that  guarded ;  suddenly  she  came, 
And  sprang  upon  the  pyre,  and  shrill  arose 

Her  song  of  death,  like  incense  through  the  flame. 


And  still  the  song,  and  still  the  flame  went  up, 

But  when  the  flame  wax'd  fierce,  the  singing  died ; 

And  soon  with  red  wine  from  a  golden  cup 

Priests  drench 'd  the  pyre;  but  no  man  might  divide 
The  ashes  of  the  Bridegroom  from  the  Bride. 

Nay,  they  were  wedded,  and  at  rest  again, 
As  in  those  old  days  on  the  mountain-side, 

Before  the  promise  of  their  youth  was  vain. 


BOOK  VI 


The  sack  of  Troy,  and  how  Menelaus 
would  have  let  stone  Helen,  but  Aphrodite 
saved  her,  and  made  them  at  one  again, 
and  how  they  came  home  to  Lacedaemon, 
and  of  their  translation  to  Elysium. 


BOOK  VI 

THE  SACK  OF  TROY  THE  RETURN  OF 
HELEN 


THERE  came  a  day,  when  Trojan  spies  beheld 
How,  o'er  the  Argive  leaguer,  all  the  air 
Was  pure  of  smoke,  no  battle-din  there  swell'd, 
Nor  any  clarion-call  was  sounding  there! 
Yea,  of  the  serried  ships  the  strand  was  bare, 
And  sea  and  shore  were  still,  as  long  ago 

When  Ilios  knew  not  Helen,  and  the  fair 
Sweet  face  that  makes  immortal  all  her  woe. 


So  for  a  space  the  watchers  on  the  wall 

Were  silent,  wond'ring  what  these  things  might  mean. 
But,  at  the  last,  sent  messengers  to  call 

Priam,  and  all  the  elders,  and  the  lean 

Remnant  of  goodly  chiefs,  that  once  had  been 
The  shield  and  stay  of  Ilios,  and  her  joy, 

Nor  yet  despair'd,  but  trusted  Gods  unseen, 
And  cast  their  spears,  and  shed  their  blood  for  Troy. 


105 


HELEN    OF   TROY 
III 

They  came,  the  more  part  grey,  grown  early  old, 
In  war  and  plague ;  but  with  them  was  the  young 

Coroebus,  that  but  late  had  left  the  fold 
And  flocks  of  sheep  Maeonian  hills  among, 
And  valiantly  his  lot  with  Priam  flung, 

For  love  of  a  lost  cause  and  a  fair  face,  — 
The  eyes  the  God  of  Pytho  once  had  sung, 

That  now  look'd  darkly  to  the  slaughter-place. 


Now  while  the  elders  kept  their  long  debate, 

Coroebus  stole  unheeded  to  his  band, 
And  led  a  handful  by  a  postern  gate 

Across  the  plain,  across  the  barren  land 

Where  once  the  happy  vines  were  wont  to  stand,    t 
And  'mid  the  clusters  once  did  maidens  sing, — 

But  now  the  plain  was  waste  on  every  hand, 
Though  here  and  there  a  flower  would  breathe  of  Spring. 


So  swift  across  the  trampled  battle-field 
Unchallenged  still,  but  wary,  did  they  pass, 

By  many  a  broken  spear  or  shatter'd  shield 
That  in  Fate's  hour  appointed  faithless  was : 
Only  the  heron  cried  from  the  morass 

By  Xanthus'  side,  and  ravens,  and  the  grey 
Wolves  left  their  feasting  in  the  tangled  grass, 

Grudging ;  and  loiter'd,  nor  fled  far  away. 


1 06 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


There  lurk'd  no  spears  in  the  high  river-banks, 
No  ambush  by  the  cairns  of  men  outworn, 

But  empty  stood  the  huts,  in  dismal  ranks, 

Where  men  through  all  these  many  years  had  borne 
Fierce  summer,  and  the  biting  winter's  scorn ; 

And  here  a  sword  was  left,  and  there  a  bow, 
But  ruinous  seem'd  all  things  and  forlorn, 

As  in  some  camp  forsaken  long  ago. 


Gorged  wolves  crept  round  the  altars,  and  did  eat 
The  flesh  of  victims  that  the  priests  had  slain, 

And  wild  dogs  fought  above  the  sacred  meat 
Late  offer'd  to  the  deathless  Gods  in  vain, 
By  men  that,  for  reward  of  all  their  pain, 

Must  haul  the  ropes,  and  weary  at  the  oar, 
Or,  drowning,  clutch  at  foam  amid  the  main, 

Nor  win  their  haven  on  the  Argive  shore. 

VIII 

Not  long  the  young  men  marvell'd  at  the  sight, 
But  grasping  one  a  sword,  and  one  the  spear 

Aias,  or  Tydeus'  son,  had  borne  in  fight, 

They  sped,  and  fill'd  the  town  with  merry  cheer, 
For  folk  were  quick  the  happy  news  to  hear, 

And  pour'd  through  all  the  gates  into  the  plain, 
Rejoicing  as  they  wander'd  far  and  near, 

O'er  the  long  Argive  toils  endured  in  vain. 


107 


HELEN    OF    TROY 
IX 

Ah,  sweet  it  was,  without  the  city  walls, 

To  hear  the  doves  coo,  and  the  finches  sing; 

Ah,  sweet,  to  twine  their  true-loves  coronals 
Of  woven  wind-flowers,  and  each  fragrant  thing 
That  blossoms  in  the  footsteps  of  the  spring ; 

And  sweet  to  lie,  forgetful  of  their  grief, 
Where  violets  hide  by  waters  wandering, 

And  the  wild  fig-tree  putteth  forth  his  leaf ! 


Now  while  they  wander'd  as  they  would,  they  found 
A  wondrous  thing :  a  marvel  of  man's  skill, 

That  stood  within  a  vale  of  hollow  ground, 

And  bulk'd  scarce  smaller  than  the  bitter  hill, — 
The  common  barrow  that  the  dead  men  fill 

Who  died  in  the  long  leaguer,  —  not  of  earth, 
Was  this  new  portent,  but  of  tree,  and  still 

The  Trojans  stood,  and  marvell'd  'mid  their  mirth. 

XI 

Ay,  much  they  wonder'd  what  this  thing  might  be, 
Shaped  like  a  Horse  it  was;  and  many  a  stain 

There  show'd  upon  the  mighty  beams  of  tree, 

For  some  with  fire  were  blacken'd,  some  with  rain 
Were  dank  and  dark  amid  white  planks  of  plane, 

New  cut  among  the  trees  that  now  were  few 
On  wasted  Ida;  but  men  gazed  in  vain, 

Nor  truth  thereof  for  all  their  searching  knew. 


1 08 


HELEN    OF   TROY 

XII 

At  length  they  deem'd  it  was  a  sacred  thing, 

Vcnv'd  to  Poseidon,  monarch  of  the  deep, 
And  that  herewith  the  Argives  pray'd  the  King 

Of  wind  and  wave  to  lull  the  seas  to  sleep ; 

So  this,  they  cried,  within  the  sacred  keep 
Of  Troy  must  rest,  memorial  of  the  war; 

And  sturdily  they  haled  it  up  the  steep, 
And  dragg'd  the  monster  to  their  walls  afar. 


All  day  they  wrought :  and  children  crown'd  with  flowers 
Laid  light  hands  on  the  ropes ;  old  men  would  ply 

Their  feeble  force;  so  through  the  merry  hours 
They  toil'd,  midst  laughter  and  sweet  minstrelsy, 
And  late  they  drew  the  great  Horse  to  the  high 

Crest  of  the  hill,  and  wide  the  tall  gates  swang; 
But  thrice,  for  all  their  force,  it  stood  thereby 

Unmoved,  and  thrice  like  smitten  armour  rang. 


Natheless  they  wrought  their  will ;  then  altar  fires 
The  Trojans  built,  and  did  the  Gods  implore 

To  grant  fulfilment  of  all  glad  desires. 

But  from  the  cups  the  wine  they  might  not  pour, 
The  flesh  upon  the  spits  did  writhe  and  roar, 

The  smoke  grew  red  as  blood,  and  many  a  limb 
Of  victims  leap'd  upon  the  temple  floor, 

Trembling ;  and  groans  amid  the  chapels  dim 


109 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Rang  low,  and  from  the  fair  Gods'  images 

And  from  their  eyes,  dropp'd  sweat  and  many  a  tear ; 
The  walls  with  blood  were  dripping,  and  on  these 

That  sacrificed,  came  horror  and  great  fear ; 

The  holy  laurels  to  Apollo  dear 
Beside  his  temple  faded  suddenly, 

And  wild  wolves  from  the  mountains  drew  anear, 
And  ravens  through  the  temples  seem'd  to  fly. 


Yet  still  the  men  of  Troy  were  glad  at  heart, 

And  o'er  strange  meat  they  revell'd,  like  folk  fey, 

Though  each  would  shudder  if  he  glanced  apart, 
For  round  their  knees  the  mists  were  gather'd  grey, 
Like  shrouds  on  men  that  Hell-ward  take  their  way; 

But  merrily  withal  they  feasted  thus, 
And  laugh'd  with  crooked  lips,  and  oft  would  say 

Some  evil-sounding  word  and  ominous. 


And  Hecuba  among  her  children  spake, 

"  Let  each  man  choose  the  meat  he  liketh  best, 

For  bread  no  more  together  shall  we  break. 
Nay,  soon  from  all  my  labour  must  I  rest, 
But  eat  ye  well,  and  drink  the  red  wine,  lest 

Ye  blame  my  house-wifery  among  men  dead." 
And  all  they  took  her  saying  for  a  jest, 

And  sweetly  did  they  laugh  at  that  she  said. 


HELEN    OF  TROY 


Then,  like  a  raven  on  the  wind  of  night, 
The  wild  Cassandra  flitted  far  and  near, 

Still  crying,  "  Gather,  gather  for  the  fight, 

And  brace  the  helmet  on,  and  grasp  the  spear, 
For  lo,  the  legions  of  the  Night  are  herel" 

So  shriek'd  the  dreadful  prophetess  divine. 
But  all  men  mock'd,  and  were  of  merry  cheer; 

Safe  as  the  Gods  they  deem'd  them,  o'er  their  wine. 


For  now  with  minstrelsy  the  air  was  sweet, 

The  soft  spring  air,  and  thick  with  incense  smoke  ; 
And  bands  of  happy  dancers  down  the  street 

Flew  from  the  flower-crown'd  doors,  and  wheel'd,  and  broke  ; 

And  loving  words  the  youths  and  maidens  spoke, 
For  Aphrodite  did  their  hearts  beguile, 

As  when  beneath  grey  cavern  or  green  oak 
The  shepherd  men  and  maidens  meet  and  smile. 


How  many  a  strength  hath  fallen  since  thy  fall, 
Ah,  Troy  1  yet  still  must  men  remember  thee, 

Though  none  doth  weep  o'er  Corinth's  funeral, 
Nor  Carthage  left  forsaken  by  the  sea, 
Orchomenos,  nor  Thebes,  nor  Nineveh  ! 

All  these  have  been  and  are  not,  but  the  fate 
Of  Troy,  that  never  was,  how  wondrously 

It  moves  our  hearts  in  these  swift  years  and  late  1 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


A  castle  built  in  Cloud-land;  or  at  most 

A  crumbling  clay-fort  on  a  windy  hill, 
Where  needy  men  might  flee  a  robber  host, 

This,  this  was  Troy !  and  yet  she  holds  us  still ; 

And  I  that  rhyme,  right  sore  against  my  will 
And  lingering  long  before  the  words  of  woe, 

This  ending  of  my  task  must  I  fulfil 
And  tell  the  tale  of  Ilios'  overthrow. 
***** 

XXII 

No  guard  men  set,  for  truly  to  them  all 

Did  Love  and  slumber  seem  exceeding  good; 
There  was  no  watch  by  open  gate  nor  wall, 

No  sentinel  by  Pallas'  image  stood ; 

But  silence  grew,  as  in  an  autumn  wood 
When  tempests  die,  and  the  vex'd  boughs  have  ease, 

And  wind  and  sunlight  fade,  and  soft  the  mood 
Of  sacred  twilight  falls  upon  the  trees. 


Then  the  stars  cross'd  the  zenith,  and  there  came 

On  Troy  that  hour  when  slumber  is  most  deep, 
But  any  man  that  watch'd  had  seen  a  flame 

Spring  from  the  tall  crest  of  the  Trojan  keep; 

While  from  the  belly  of  the  Horse  did  leap 
Men  arm'd,  and  to  the  gates  went  stealthily, 

While  up  the  rocky  ways  to  Ilios  creep 
The  Argives,  new  return'd  across  the  sea. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


Now  when  the  silence  broke,  and  in  that  hour 
When  first  the  dawn  of  war  was  blazing  red, 

There  came  a  light  in  Helen's  fragrant  bower, 
As  on  that  evil  night  before  she  fled 
From  Lacedaemon  and  her  marriage  bed ; 

And  Helen  in  great  fear  lay  still  and  cold, 
For  Aphrodite  stood  above  her  head, 

And  spake  in  that  sweet  voice  she  knew  of  old : 


"  Beloved  one  that  dost  not  love  me,  wake ! 

Helen,  the  night  is  over,  the  dawn  is  near, 
And  safely  shall  thou  fare  with  me,  and  take 

Thy  way  through  fire  and  blood,  and  have  no  fear: 

A  little  hour,  and  ended  is  the  drear 
Tale  of  thy  sorrow  and  thy  wandering. 

Nay,  long  hast  thou  to  live  in  happy  cheer, 
By  fair  Eurotas,  with  thy  lord,  the  King." 

XXVI 

Then  Helen  rose,  and  in  a  cloud  of  gold, 

Unseen  amid  the  vapour  of  the  fire, 
Did  Aphrodite  veil  her,  fold  on  fold; 

And  through  the  darkness,  thronged  with  faces  dire, 

And  o'er  men's  bodies  fallen  in  a  mire 
Of  new  spilt  blood  and  wine,  the  twain  did  go 

Where  Lust  and  Hate  were  mingled  in  desire, 
And  dreams  and  death  were  blended  in  one  woe. 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

XXVII 

Fire  and  the  foe  were  masters  now :  the  sky 
Flared  like  the  dawn  of  that  last  day  of  all, 

When  men  for  pity  to  the  sea  shall  cry, 
And  vainly  on  the  mountain  tops  shall  call 
To  fall  and  end  the  horror  in  their  fall ; 

And  through  the  vapour  dreadful  things  saw  they, 
The  maidens  leaping  from  the  city  wall, 

The  sleeping  children  murder'd  where  they  lay. 


Yea,  cries  like  those  that  make  the  hills  of  Hell 
Ring  and  re-echo,  sounded  through  the  night, 

The  screams  of  burning  horses,  and  the  yell 
Of  young  men  leaping  naked  into  fight, 
And  shrill  the  women  shriek'd,  as  in  their  flight 

Shriek  the  wild  cranes,  when  overhead  they  spy 
Between  the  dusky  cloud-land  and  the  bright 

Blue  air,  an  eagle  stooping  from  the  sky. 


And  now  the  red  glare  of  the  burning  shone 

On  deeds  so  dire  the  pure  Gods  might  not  bear, 
Save  Ares  only,  long  to  look  thereon, 

But  with  a  cloud  they  darken'd  all  the  air. 

And,  even  then,  within  the  temple  fair 
Of  chaste  Athene,  did  Cassandra  cower, 

And  cried  aloud  an  unavailing  prayer ; 
For  Aias  was  the  master  in  that  hour. 


114 


HELEN   OF   TROY 

XXX 

Man's  lust  won  what  a  God's  love  might  not  win, 
And  heroes  trembled,  and  the  temple  floor 

Shook,  when  one  cry  went  up  into  the  din, 

And  shamed  the  night  to  silence;  then  the  roar 
Of  war  and  fire  wax'd  great  as  heretofore, 

Till  each  roof  fell,  and  every  palace  gate 

Was  shatter'd,  and  the  King's  blood  shed;  nor  more 

Remain'd  to  do,  for  Troy  wras  desolate. 


Then  dawn  drew  near,  and  changed  to  clouds  of  rose 

The  dreadful  smoke  that  clung  to  Ida's  head ; 
But  Ilios  was  ashes,  and  the  foes 

Had  left  the  embers  and  the  plunder'd  dead ; 

And  down  the  steep  they  drove  the  prey,  and  sped 
Back  to  the  swift  ships,  with  a  captive  train, — 

While  Menelaus,  slow,  with  drooping  head, 
Follow'd,  like  one  lamenting,  through  the  plain. 


Where  death  might  seem  the  surest,  by  the  gate 
Of  Priam,  where  the  spears  raged,  and  the  tall 

Towers  on  the  foe  were  falling,  sought  he  fate 
To  look  on  Helen  once,  and  then  to  fall, 
Nor  see  with  living  eyes  the  end  of  all, 

What  time  the  host  their  vengeance  should  fulfil, 
And  cast  her  from  the  cliff  below  the  wall, 

Or  burn  her  body  on  the  windy  hill. 


HELEN    OF   TROY 


But  Helen  found  he  never,  where  the  flame 
Sprang  to  the  roofs,  and  Helen  ne'er  he  found 

Where  flock'd  the  wretched  women  in  their  shame 
The  helpless  altars  of  the  Gods  around, 
Nor  lurk'd  she  in  deep  chambers  underground, 

Where  the  priests  trembled  o'er  their  hidden  gold, 
Nor  where  the  armed  feet  of  foes  resound 

In  shrines  to  silence  consecrate  of  old. 


So  wounded  to  his  hut  and  wearily 

Came  Menelaus;  and  he  bow'd  his  head 

Beneath  the  lintel  neither  fair  nor  high; 
And,  lo  !  Queen  Helen  lay  upon  his  bed, 
Flush'd  like  a  child  in  sleep,  and  rosy-red, 

And  at  his  footstep  did  she  wake  and  smile, 

And  spake :  "  My  lord,  how  hath  thy  hunting  sped, 

Methinks  that  I  have  slept  a  weary  while  1 " 


For  Aphrodite  made  the  past  unknown 
To  Helen,  as  of  old,  when  in  the  dew 

Of  that  fair  dawn  the  net  was  round  her  thrown : 
Nay,  now  no  memory  of  Troy  brake  through 
The  mist  that  veil'd  from  her  sweet  eyes  and  blue 

The  dreadful  days  and  deeds  all  over-past, 
And  gladly  did  she  greet  her  lord  anew, 

And  gladly  would  her  arms  have  round  him  cast. 


116 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Then  leap'd  she  up  in  terror,  for  he  stood 

Before  her,  like  a  lion  of  the  wild, 
His  rusted  armour  all  bestain'd  with  blood, 

His  mighty  hands  with  blood  of  men  denied, 

And  strange  was  all  she  saw :  the  spears,  the  piled 
Raw  skins  of  slaughter'd  beasts  with  many  a  stain  ; 

And  low  he  spake,  and  bitterly  he  smiled, 
"The  hunt  is  ended,  and  the  spoil  is  ta'en." 


No  more  he  spake;  for  certainly  he  deem'd 
That  Aphrodite  brought  her  to  that  place, 

And  that  of  her  loved  archer  Helen  dream'd, 
Of  Paris ;  at  that  thought  the  mood  of  grace 
Died  in  him,  and  he  hated  her  fair  face, 

And  bound  her  hard,  not  slacking  for  her  tears; 
Then  silently  departed  for  a  space, 

To  seek  the  ruthless  counsel  of  his  peers. 


Now  all  the  Kings  were  feasting  in  much  joy, 
Seated  or  couch'd  upon  the  carpets  fair 

That  late  had  strown  the  palace  floors  of  Troy, 
And  lovely  Trojan  ladies  served  them  there, 
And  meat  from  off  the  spits  young  princes  bare 

But  Menelaus  burst  among  them  all, 

Strange  'mid  their  revelry,  and  did  not  spare 

But  bade  the  Kings  a  sudden  council  call. 


117 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


To  mar  their  feast  the  Kings  had  little  will, 

Yet  did  they  as  he  bade,  in  grudging  wise, 
And  heralds  call'd  the  host  unto  the  hill 

Heap'd  of  sharp  stones,  where  ancient  Ilus  lies. 

And  forth  the  people  flock'd,  as  throng'd  as  flies 
That  buzz  about  the  milking-pails  in  spring, 

When  life  awakens  under  April  skies, 
And  birds  from  dawning  into  twilight  sing. 


Then  Helen  through  the  camp  was  driven  and  thrust, 

Till  even  the  Trojan  women  cried  in  glee, 
"Ah,  where  is  she  in  whom  was  set  thy  trust, 

The  Queen  of  love  and  laughter,  where  is  she? 

Behold  the  last  gift  that  she  giveth  thee, 
Thou  of  the  many  loves  1  to  die  alone, 

And  round  thy  flesh  for  robes  of  price  to  be 
The  cold  close-clinging  raiment  of  sharp  stone." 

XL! 

Ah,  slowly  through  that  trodden  field  and  bare 

They  pass'd,  where  scarce  the  daffodil  might  spring, 
For  war  had  wasted  all,  but  in  the  air 

High  overhead  the  mounting  lark  did  sing; 

Then  all  the  army  gather'd  in  a  ring 
Round  Helen,  round  their  torment,  trapp'd  at  last, 

And  many  took  up  mighty  stones  to  fling 
From  shards  and  flints  on  Ilus'  barrow  cast. 


118 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


Then  Menelaus  to  the  people  spoke, 

And  swift  his  wing'd  words  came  as  whirling  snow, 
"  Oh  ye  that  overlong  have  borne  the  yoke, 

Behold  the  very  fountain  of  your  woe  I 

For  her  ye  left  your  dear  homes  long  ago, 
On  Argive  valley  or  Boeotian  plain ; 

But  now  the  black  ships  rot  from  stern  to  prow, 
Who  knows  if  ye  shall  see  your  own  again  ? 


"  Ay,  and  if  home  ye  win,  ye  yet  may  find, 

Ye  that  the  winds  waft,  and  the  waters  bear 
To  Argos !  ye  are  quite  gone  out  of  mind ; 

Your  fathers,  dear  and  old,  dishonour'd  there; 

Your  children  deem  you  dead,  and  will  not  share 
Their  lands  with  you ;  on  mainland  or  on  isle, 

Strange  men  are  wooing  now  the  women  fair, 
And  love  doth  lightly  woman's  heart  beguile. 

XLIV 

"These  sorrows  hath  this  woman  wrought  alone: 
So  fall  upon  her  straightway  that  she  die, 

And  clothe  her  beauty  in  a  cloak  of  stone  !  " 
He  spake,  and  truly  deem'd  to  hear  her  cry 
And  see  the  sharp  flints  straight  and  deadly  fly ; 

But  each  man  stood  and  mused  on  Helen's  face, 
And  her  undream'd-of  beauty,  brought  so  nigh 

On  that  bleak  plain,  within  that  ruin'd  place. 


119 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


And  as  in  far  off  days  that  were  to  be, 

The  sense  of  their  own  sin  did  men  constrain, 

That  they  must  leave  the  sinful  woman  free 
Who,  by  their  law,  had  verily  been  slain, 
So  Helen's  beauty  made  their  anger  vain, 

And  one  by  one  his  gather'd  flints  let  fall ; 

And  like  men  shamed  they  stole  across  the  plain, 

Back  to  the  swift  ships  and  their  festival. 


But  Menelaus  look'd  on  her  and  said, 

"  Hath  no  man  then  condemn'd  thee,  —  is  there  none 
To  shed  thy  blood  for  all  that  thou  hast  shed, 

To  wreak  on  thee  the  wrongs  that  thou  hast  done. 

Nay,  as  mine  own  soul  liveth,  there  is  one 
That  will  not  set  thy  barren  beauty  free, 

But  slay  thee  to  Poseidon  and  the  Sun 
Before  a  ship  Achaian  takes  the  sea ! " 


Therewith  he  drew  his  sharp  sword  from  his  thigh 
As  one  intent  to  slay  her:  but  behold, 

A  sudden  marvel  shone  across  the  sky! 
A  flood  of  rosy  fire,  a  cloud  of  gold, 
And  Aphrodite  came  from  forth  the  fold 

Of  wondrous  mist,  and  sudden  at  her  feet 
Lotus  and  crocus  on  the  trampled  wold 

Brake,  and  the  slender  hyacinth  was  sweet. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


Then  fell  the  point  that  never  bloodless  fell 
When  spear  bit  harness  in  the  battle  din, 

For  Aphrodite  spake,  and  like  a  spell 

Wrought  her  sweet  voice  persuasive,  till  within 
His  heart  there  lived  no  memory  of  sin, 

No  thirst  for  vengeance  more,  but  all  grew  plain, 
And  wrath  was  molten  in  desire  to  win 

The  golden  heart  of  Helen  once  again. 


Then  Aphrodite  vanish'd  as  the  day 

Passes,  and  leaves  the  darkling  earth  behind ; 

And  over  head  the  April  sky  was  grey, 

But  Helen's  arms  about  her  lord  were  twined, 
And  his  round  her  as  clingingly  and  kind, 

As  when  sweet  vines  and  ivy  in  the  spring 

Join  their  glad  leaves,  nor  tempests  may  unbind 

The  woven  boughs,  so  lovingly  they  cling. 


Noon  long  was  over-past,  but  sacred  night 
Beheld  them  not  upon  the  Ilian  shore; 

Nay,  for  about  the  waning  of  the  light 

Their  swift  ships  wander'd  on  the  waters  hoar, 
Nor  stay'd  they  the  Olympians  to  adore, 

So  eagerly  they  left  that  cursed  land, 

But  many  a  toil,  and  tempests  great  and  sore, 

Befell  them  ere  they  won  the  Argive  strand. 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


To  Cyprus  and  Phoenicia  wandering 

They  came,  and  many  a  ship,  and  many  a  man 

They  lost,  and  perish'd  many  a  precious  thing 
While  bare  before  the  stormy  North  they  ran, 
And  further  far  than  when  their  quest  began 

From  Argos  did  they  seem,  —  a  weary  while,  — 
Becalm'd  in  sultry  seas  Egyptian, 

A  long  day's  voyage  from  the  mouths  of  Nile. 


But  there  the  Gods  had  pity  on  them,  and  there 

The  ancient  Proteus  taught  them  how  to  flee 
From  that  so  distant  deep,  —  the  fowls  of  air 

Scarce  in  one  year  can  measure  out  that  sea; 

Yet  first  within  Aegyptus  must  they  be, 
And  hecatombs  must  offer,  —  quickly  then 

The  Gods  abated  of  their  jealousy, 
Wherewith  they  scourge  the  negligence  of  men. 

LIII 

And  strong  and  fair  the  south  wind  blew,  and  fleet 

Their  voyaging,  so  merrily  they  fled 
To  win  that  haven  where  the  waters  sweet 

Of  clear  Eurotas  with  the  brine  are  wed, 

And  swift  their  chariots  and  their  horses  sped 
To  pleasant  Lacedaemon,  lying  low 

Grey  in  the  shade  of  sunset,  but  the  head 
Of  tall  Taygetus  like  fire  did  glow. 


HELEN   OF   TROY 


And  what  but  this  is  sweet :  at  last  to  win 

The  fields  of  home,  that  change  not  while  we  change  ; 

To  hear  the  birds  their  ancient  song  begin ; 

To  wander  by  the  well-loved  streams  that  range 
Where  not  one  pool,  one  moss-clad  stone  is  strange, 

Nor  seem  we  older  than  long  years  ago, 

Though  now  beneath  the  grey  roof  of  the  grange 

The  children  dwell  of  them  we  used  to  know  ? 

LV 

Came  there  no  trouble  in  the  later  days 
To  mar  the  life  of  Helen,  when  the  old 

Crowns  and  dominions  perish'd,  and  the  blaze 
Lit  by  returning  Heraclidae  roll'd 
Through  every  vale  and  every  happy  fold 

Of  all  the  Argive  land  ?     Nay,  peacefully 
Did  Menelaus  and  the  Queen  behold 

The  counted  years  of  mortal  life  go  by. 

LVI 

"  Death  ends  all  tales,"  but  this  he  endeth  not ; 

They  grew  not  grey  within  the  valley  fair 
Of  hollow  Lacedaemon,  but  were  brought 

To  Rhadamanthys  of  the  golden  hair, 

Beyond  the  wide  world's  end ;  ah  never  there 
Comes  storm  nor  snow ;  all  grief  is  left  behind, 

And  men  immortal,  in  enchanted  air, 
Breathe  the  cool  current  of  the  Western  wind. 


123 


HELEN    OF    TROY 


But  Helen  was  a  Saint  in  Heathendom, 
A  kinder  Aphrodite;  without  fear 

Maidens  and  lovers  to  her  shrine  would  come 
In  fair  Therapnae,  by  the  waters  clear 
Of  swift  Eurotas;  gently  did  she  hear 

All  prayers  of  love,  and  not  unheeded  came 
The  broken  supplication,  and  the  tear 

Of  man  or  maiden  overweigh'd  with  shame. 

O'er  Helen's  shrine  the  grass  is  growing  green, 
In  desolate  Therapnae  ;  none  the  less 

Her  sweet  face  now  unworshipp'd  and  unseen 
Abides  the  symbol  of  all  loveliness, 
Of  Beauty  ever  stainless  in  the  stress 

Of  warring  lusts  and  fears ; — and  still  divine, 
Still  ready  with  immortal  peace  to  bless 

Them  that  with  pure  hearts  worship  at  her  shrine. 


NOTE 


[In  this  story  in  rhyme  of  the  fortunes  of 
Helen,  the  not  un-Homeric  theory  that  she 
was  an  unwilling  victim  of  the  Gods  has 
been  preferred.  The  magical  method  by 
which  Aphrodite  leads  her  to  Ilios,  is,  of 
course,  an  unsupported  invention.  Many 
of  the  descriptions  of  manners  are  versified 
from  the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey.  The 
account  of  the  events  after  the  death  of 
Hector,  and  of  the  sack  of  Troy,  is  chiefly 
borrowed  from  Quintus  Smy  rnaeus.  Some 
singular  legends  about  Helen,  unknown 
to  the  author  when  writing  the  tale,  have 
been  added,  from  Engelmann's  essay  in 
Rosscher's  new  Lexikon.] 


NOTE 

THE  character  and  history  of  Helen  of 
Troy  have  been  conceived  of  in  very 
different  ways  by  poets  and  mythologists. ' 
In  attempting  to  trace  the  chief  current  of 
ancient  traditions  about  Helen,  we  cannot 
really  get  further  back  than  the  Homeric 
poems,  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  Philological 
conjecture  may  assure  us  that  Helen,  like 
most  of  the  characters  of  old  romance,  is 
"merely  the  Dawn,"  or  Light,  or  some  other 
bright  being  carried  away  by  Paris,  who 
represents  Night,  or  Winter,  or  the  Cloud, 
or  some  other  power  of  darkness.  Without 
discussing  these  ideas,  it  may  be  said  that 
the  Greek  poets  (at  all  events  till  allegorical 
explanations  of  mythology  came  in,  about 
five  hundred  years  before  Christ)  regarded 
Helen  simply  as  a  woman  of  wonderful 
beauty.  Homer  was  not  thinking  of  the 


i  There  is  an  admirable  essay  on  Helen  as  the  type 
of  Beauty  incorruptible,  in  Homntes  et  Dieux,  by  M. 
Paul  de  St.  Victor,  and  another  in  Mr.  Symonds'  Greek 
Studies.  Seealso  Rosscher's  Lexikon,  s.  v.  "  Helena." 

127 


Dawn,  or  the  Cloud  when  he  described  Helen 
among  the  Elders  on  the  Ilian  walls,  or 
repeated  her  lament  over  the  dead  body  of 
Hector.  The  Homeric  poems  are  our  oldest 
literary  documents  about  Helen,  but  it  is 
probable  enough  that  the  poet  has  modified 
and  purified  more  ancient  traditions  which 
still  survive  in  various  fragments  of  Greek 
legend.  In  Homer  Helen  is  always 
the  daughter  of  Zeus.  Isocrates  tells  us 
("Helena,"  211  b)  that  "while  many  of  the 
demi-gods  were  children  of  Zeus,  he  thought 
the  paternity  of  none  of  his  daughters  worth 
claiming,  save  that  of  Helen  only."  In 
Homer,  then,  Helen  is  the  daughter  of 
Zeus,  but  Homer  says  nothing  of  the  famous 
legend  which  makes  Zeus  assume  the  form 
of  a  swan  to  woo  the  mother  of  Helen. 
Un-Homeric  as  this  myth  is,  we  may  regard 
it  as  extremely  ancient.  Very  similar  tales 
of  pursuit  and  metamorphosis,  for  amatory 
or  other  purposes,  occur  among  the  old 
legends  of  Wales,  and  in  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  as  well  as  in  the  myths  of  Austra- 
lians and  Red  Indians.  Again,  the  belief 
that  different  families  of  mankind  descend 
from  animals,  as  from  the  Swan,  or  from 
gods  in  the  shape  of  animals,  is  found  in 
every  quarter  of  the  world,  and  among  the 
rudest  races.  Many  Australian  natives  of 

128 


to-day  claim  descent,  like  the  royal  house 
of  Sparta,  from  the  Swan.  The  Greek 
myths  hesitated  as  to  whether  Nemesis  or 
Leda  was  the  bride  of  the  Swan.  Homer 
only  mentions  Leda  among  "  the  wives  and 
daughters  of  mighty  men,"  whose  ghosts 
Odysseus  beheld  in  Hades:  "And  I  saw 
Leda,  the  famous  bedfellow  of  Tyndareus, 
who  bare  to  Tyndareus  two  sons,  hardy  of 
heart,  Castor,  tamer  of  steeds,  and  the 
boxer  Polydeuces."  These  heroes  Helen, 
in  the  Iliad  (iii.  238),  describes  as  her 
mother's  sons.  Thus,  if  Homer  has  any 
distinct  view  on  the  subject,  he  holds  that 
Leda  is  the  mother  of  Helen  by  Zeus,  of 
the  Dioscuri  by  Tyndareus. 

Greek  sentiment  as  to  the  character  of 
Helen  varied  with  the  various  moods  of 
Greek  literature.  Homer's  own  ideas  about 
his  heroine  are  probably  best  expressed  in 
the  words  with  which  Priam  greets  her  as 
she  appears  among  the  assembled  elders, 
who  are  watching  the  Argive  heroes  from 
the  wall  of  Troy:  —  "In  nowise,  dear  child, 
do  I  blame  thee ;  nay,  the  Gods  are  to  blame, 
who  have  roused  against  me  the  woful  war 
of  the  Achaeans."  Homer,  like  Priam, 
throws  the  guilt  of  Helen  on  the  Gods,  but 
it  is  not  very  easy  to  understand  exactly 
what  he  means  by  saying  "  the  Gods  are  to 

129 


blame."  In  the  first  place,  Homer  avoids 
the  psychological  problems  in  which  modern 
poetry  revels,  by  attributing  almost  all 
changes  of  the  moods  of  men  to  divine 
inspiration.  Thus  when  Achilles,  in  a 
famous  passage  of  the  first  book  of  the 
Iliad,  puts  up  his  half-drawn  sword  in  the 
sheath,  and  does  not  slay  Agamemnon, 
Homer  assigns  his  repentance  to  the  direct 
influence  of  Athene.  Again,  he  says  in 
the  Odyssey,  about  Clytemnestra,  that  "  she 
would  none  of  the  foul  deed;"  that  is  of 
the  love  of  Aegisthus,  till  "the  doom  of  the 
Gods  bound  her  to  her  ruin. "  So  the  same 
excuse  is  made  for  the  murderous  Clytemnes- 
tra as  for  the  amiable  Helen.  Again, 
Homer  is,  in  the  strictest  sense,  and  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  Greek  tragedians  and 
to  Virgil,  a  chivalrous  poet.  It  is  not  meant 
that  he  describes  manners  which  are  always 
chivalrous.  On  the  other  hand,  captive 
ladies  had  much  to  bear  in  the  Homeric 
age,  and  Zeus,  among  the  Gods,  is  dis- 
courteous—  to  his  wife.  But  it  would 
probably  be  impossible  to  find  a  passage  in 
which  the  poet  speaks  harshly  or  censori- 
ously of  the  conduct  of  any  fair  and  noble 
lady.  The  sordid  treachery  of  Eriphyle, 
who  sold  her  lord  for  gold,  wins  for  her 
the  epithet  "  hateful ; "  and  Achilles,  in  a 

130 


moment  of  strong  grief,  applies  a  term  of 
abhorrence  to  Helen.  But  Homer  is  too 
chivalrous  to  judge  the  life  of  any  lady,  and 
only  shows  the  other  side  of  the  chivalrous 
character —  its  cruelty  to  persons  not  of  noble 
birth  —  in  describing  with  sympathy  the 
"foul  death"  of  the  waiting  women  of 
Penelope.  "God  forbid  that  I  should  take 
these  women's  lives  by  a  clean  death,"  says 
Telemachus  (Odyssey,  xxii.  462).  So  "  about 
all  their  necks  nooses  were  cast  that  they 
might  die  by  the  death  most  pitiful.  And 
they  writhed  with  their  feet  for  a  little  space, 
but  for  no  long  while."  In  trying  to  under- 
stand Homer's  estimate  of  Helen,  therefore, 
we  must  make  allowance  for  his  theory  of 
divine  intervention,  and  for  his  chivalrous 
judgment  of  ladies.  But  there  are  two 
passages  in  the  Iliad  which  might  be  taken 
as  indicating  Homer's  opinion  that  Helen 
was  literally  a  victim,  an  unwilling  victim, 
of  Aphrodite,  and  that  she  was  carried  away 
by  force  a  captive  from  Lacedaemon.  These 
passages  are  in  the  Iliad,  ii.  356,  590.  In 
the  former  text  Nestor  says,  "let  none  be 
eager  to  return  home  ere  he  has  couched 
with  a  Trojan's  wife,  and  avenged  the  longings 
and  sorrows  of  Helen"  —  rLaraffOai  6'E\^j^s 
op/upward  re  (TTovaxds  re.  It  is  thus  that 
Mr.  Gladstone,  a  notable  champion  of 


Helen's,  would  render  this  passage,  and  the 
same  interpretation  was  favoured  by  the 
ancient  "Separatists"  (Chori^ontes),  who 
wished  to  prove  that  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey 
were  by  different  authors ;  but  many  authori- 
ties prefer  to  translate  "to  avenge  our 
labours  and  sorrows  for  Helen's  sake"  — 
"to  avenge  all  that  we  have  endured  in 
the  attempt  to  win  back  Helen."  Thus  the 
evidence  of  this  passage  is  ambiguous.  The 
fairer  way  to  seek  for  Homer's  real  view  of 
Helen  is  to  examine  all  the  passages  in 
which  she  appears.  The  result  will  be 
something  like  this :  —  Homer  sees  in  Helen 
a  being  of  the  rarest  personal  charm  and 
grace  of  character;  a  woman  who  imputes 
to  herself  guilt  much  greater  that  the  real 
measure  of  her  offence  as  understood  by  the 
poet.  She  is  ever  gentle  except  with  the 
Goddess  who  betrayed  her,  and  the  unworthy 
lover  whose  lot  she  is  compelled  to  share. 
Against  them  her  helpless  anger  breaks  out 
in  flashes  of  eloquent  scorn.  Homer  was 
apparently  acquainted  with  the  myth  of 
Helen's  capture  by  Theseus,  a  myth  illus- 
trated in  the  decorations  of  the  coffer  of 
Cypselus.  He  mentions  Aethra,  the  mother 
of  Theseus,  said  to  have  been  seized  in 
revenge  for  the  capture,  by  Theseus,  of 
Helen.  But  we  first  see  Helen,  the  cause 

132 


of  the  war,  when  Menelaus  and  Paris  are 
about  to  fight  their  duel  for  her  sake,  in  the 
tenth  year  of  the  Leaguer  (Iliad,  Hi.  121). 
Iris  is  sent  to  summon  Helen  to  the  walls. 
She  finds  the  lady  in  her  chamber,  weaving 
at  a  mighty  loom,  and  embroidering  on 
tapestry  the  adventures  of  the  siege  —  the 
battles  of  horse-taming  Trojans  and  bronze- 
clad  Achaeans.  The  message  of  Iris  renews 
in  Helen's  heart  "a  sweet  desire  for  her  lord 
and  her  own  city,  and  them  that  begat  her; " 
so,  draped  in  silvery  white,  Helen  goes  with 
her  three  maidens  to  the  walls.  There, 
above  the  gate,  like  some  king  in  the  Old 
Testament,  Priam  sits  among  his  counsellors, 
and  they  are  all  amazed  at  Helen's  beauty; 
"no  marvel  is  it  that  Trojans  and  Achaeans 
suffer  long  and  weary  toils  for  such  a  woman, 
so  wondrous  like  to  the  immortal  goddesses. " 
Then  Priam,  assuring  Helen  that  he  holds 
her  blameless,  bids  her  name  to  him  her 
kinsfolk  and  the  other  Achaean  warriors. 
In  her  reply,  Helen  displays  that  grace  of 
penitence  which  is  certainly  not  often  found 
in  ancient  literature:  —  "Would  that  evil 
death  had  been  my  choice,  when  I  followed 
thy  son,  and  left  my  bridal  bower  and  my 
kin,  and  my  daughter  dear,  and  the  maidens 
of  like  age  with  me. "  Agamemnon  she  calls, 
"  the  husband's  brother  of  me  shameless ;  alas, 

'33 


that  such  an  one  should  be. "  She  names 
many  of  the  warriors,  but  misses  her  brothers 
Castor  and  Polydeuces,  "own  brothers  of 
mine,  one  mother  bare  us.  Either  they 
followed  not  from  pleasant  Lacedaemon,  or 
hither  they  followed  in  swift  ships,  but  now 
they  have  no  heart  to  go  down  into  the 
battle  for  dread  of  the  shame  and  many 
reproaches  that  are  mine. " 

"  So  spake  she,  but  already  the  life-giving 
earth  did  cover  them,  there  in  Lacedaemon, 
in  their  own  dear  country."i 

Menelaus  and  Paris  fought  out  their  duel, 
the  Trojan  was  discomfited,  but  was  rescued 
from  death  and  carried  to  Helen's  bower  by 
Aphrodite.  Then  the  Goddess  came  in 
disguise  to  seek  Helen  on  the  wall,  and 
force  her  back  into  the  arms  of  her  defeated 
lover.  Helen  turned  on  the  Goddess  with 
an  abruptness  and  a  force  of  sarcasm  and 
invective  which  seem  quite  foreign  to  her 
gentle  nature.  "  Wilt  thou  take  me  further 
yet  to  some  city  of  Phrygia  or  pleasant 
Maeonia,  if  there  any  man  is  dear  to  thee. 
.  .  .  Nay,  go  thyself  and  sit  down  by 
Paris,  and  forswear  the  paths  of  the  Gods, 
but  ever  lament  for  him  and  cherish  him, 

i  It  has  recently  been  denied  that  Helen  shows  any 
penitence,  and  the  stupendous  statement  has  been 
added,  that  "  There  is  no  morality  in  the  Iliad.  " 

134 


till  he  make  thee  his  wife,  yea,  or  perchance 
his  slave,  but  to  him  will  I  never  go. "  But 
this  anger  of  Helen  is  soon  overcome  by 
fear,  when  the  Goddess,  in  turn,  waxes 
wrathful,  and  Helen  is  literally  driven  by 
threats  —  "for  the  daughter  of  Zeus  was 
afraid, "  —  into  the  arms  of  Paris.  Yet  even 
so  she  taunts  her  lover  with  his  cowardice,  a 
cowardice  which  she  never  really  condones. 
In  the  sixth  book  of  the  Iliad  she  has  been 
urging  him  to  return  to  the  war.  She  then 
expresses  her  penitence  to  Hector,  "would 
that  the  fury  of  the  wind  had  borne  me  afar 
to  the  mountains,  or  the  wave  of  the  roaring 
sea  ....  ere  ever  these  ill  deeds  were 
done  ! "  In  this  passage  too,  she  prophesies 
that  her  fortunes  will  be  doidipoi  t<rffop.tvoi<ri, 
famous  in  the  songs,  good  or  evil,  of  men 
unborn.  In  the  last  book  of  the  Iliad  we 
meet  Helen  once  more,  as  she  laments  over 
the  dead  body  of  Hector.  "'Never,  in  all 
the  twenty  years  since  I  came  hither,  have  I 
heard  from  thee  one  taunt  or  one  evil  word : 
nay,  but  if  any  other  rebuked  me  in  the  halls, 
any  one  of  my  husband's  brothers,  or  of  their 
sisters,  or  their  wives,  or  the  mother  of  my 
husband  (but  the  king  was  ever  gentle  to  me 
as  a  father),  then  wouldst  thou  restrain  them 
with  thy  loving  kindness  and  thy  gentle 
speech. '  So  spake  she,  weeping. " 

'35 


In  the  Odyssey,  Helen  is  once  more  in 
Lacedaemon,  the  honoured  but  still  penitent 
wife  of  Menelaus.  How  they  became  recon- 
ciled (an  extremely  difficult  point  in  the 
story),  there  is  nothing  in  Homer  to  tell  us. 

Sir  John  Lubbock  has  conjectured  that  in 
the  morals  of  the  heroic  age  Helen  was  not 
really  regarded  as  guilty.  She  was  lawfully 
married,  by  "capture,"  to  Paris.  Unfor- 
tunately for  this  theory  there  is  abundant 
proof  that,  in  the  heroic  age,  wives  were 
nominally  bought,  as  among  the  Zulus,  for  so 
many  cattle,  or  given  as  a  reward  for  great 
services.  There  is  no  sign  of  marriage  by 
capture,  and,  again,  marriage  by  capture  is  a 
savage  institution  which  applies  to  unmarried 
women,  not  to  women  already  wedded,  as 
Helen  was  to  Menelaus.  Perhaps  the  oldest 
evidence  we  have  for  opinion  about  the  later 
relations  of  Helen  and  Menelaus,  is  derived 
from  Pausanias's  (174,  A.  D.)  description  of 
the  Chest  of  Cypselus.  This  ancient  coffer, 
a  work  of  the  seventh  century,  B.C.,  was 
still  preserved  at  Olympia,  in  the  time  of 
Pausanias.  On  one  of  the  bands  of  cedar 
or  of  ivory,  was  represented  (Pausanias, 
v.  18),  "  Menelaus  with  a  sword  in  his  hand 
rushing  on  to  kill  Helen  —  clearly  at  the 
sacking  of  Ilios. "  How  Menelaus  passed 
from  a  desire  to  kill  Helen  to  his  absolute 

136 


NOTE 

complacency  in  the  Odyssey,  Homer  does 
not  tell  us.  According  to  a  statement 
attributed  to  Stesichorus  by  the  scholiast 
on  the  "Orestes"  of  Euripides  (1274)  (635, 
554,  B.C.?),  the  army  of  the  Achaeans  pro- 
posed to  stone  Helen,  but  was  overawed 
and  compelled  to  relent  by  her  extraordinary 
beauty:  "when  they  beheld  her,  they  cast 
down  their  stones  on  the  ground."  It  may 
be  conjectured  that  the  reconciliation  fol- 
lowed this  futile  attempt  at  punishing 
a  daughter  of  Zeus.  A  vase  shows  us 
Aphrodite  disarming  the  wrath  of  Menelaus, 
by  withdrawing  the  veil  from  the  beautiful 
face  of  Helen.  Homer,  then,  leaves  us 
without  information  about  the  adventures  of 
Helen,  between  the  sack  of  Troy  and  the 
reconciliation  with  Menelaus.  He  hints  that 
she  was  married  to  Deiphobus,  after  the 
death  of  Paris,  and  alludes  to  the  tradition 
that  she  mimicked  the  voices  of  the  wives  of 
the  heroes  (from  this  art  she  was  called 
Echo),  and  so  nearly  tempted  them  to  leave 
their  ambush  in  the  wooden  horse.  But  in 
the  fourth  book  of  the  Odyssey,  when 
Telemachus  visits  Lacedaemon,  he  finds 
Helen  the  honoured  wife  of  Menelaus,  rich 
in  the  marvellous  gifts  bestowed  on  her,  in 
her  wanderings  from  Troy,  by  the  princes  of 
Egypt. 

137 


"  While  yet  he  pondered  these  things  in 
his  mind  and  in  his  heart,  Helen  came  forth 
from  her  fragrant  vaulted  chamber,  like 
Artemis  of  the  golden  arrows;  and  with 
her  came  Adraste  and  set  for  her  the  well- 
wrought  chair,  and  Alcippe  bare  a  rug  of 
soft  wool,  and  Phylo  bare  a  silver  basket 
which  Alcandre  gave  her,  the  wife  of 
Polybus,  who  dwelt  in  Thebes  of  Egypt, 
where  is  the  chiefest  store  of  wealth  in  the 
houses.  He  gave  two  silver  baths  to 
Menelaus,  and  tripods  twain,  and  ten  talents 
of  gold.  And  besides  all  this,  his  wife 
bestowed  on  Helen  lovely  gifts;  a  golden 
distaff  did  she  give,  and  a  silver  basket 
with  wheels  beneath,  and  the  rims  thereof 
were  finished  with  gold.  This  it  was  that 
the  handmaid  Phylo  bare  and  set  beside 
her,  filled  with  dressed  yarn,  and  across 
it  was  laid  a  distaff  charged  with  wool  of 
violet  blue.  So  Helen  sat  her  down  in  the 
chair,  and  beneath  was  a  footstool  for  the 
feet." 

When  the  host  and  guests  begin  to  weep 
the  ready  tears  of  the  heroic  age  over  the 
sorrows  of  the  past,  and  dread  of  the  dim 
future,  Helen  comforts  them  with  a  magical 
potion. 

"  Then  Helen,  daughter  of  Zeus,  turned  to 
new  thoughts.  Presently  she  cast  a  drug 

138 


into  the  wine  whereof  they  drank,  a  drug 
to  lull  all  pain  and  anger,  and  bring  forget- 
fulness  of  every  sorrow.  Whoso  should 
drink  a  draught  thereof,  when  it  is  mingled 
in  the  bowl,  on  that  day  he  would  let  no 
tear  fall  down  his  cheeks,  not  though  his 
mother  and  his  father  died,  not  though  men 
slew  his  brother  or  dear  son  with  the  sword 
before  his  face,  and  his  own  eyes  beheld  it. 
Medicines  of  such  virtue  and  so  helpful  had 
the  daughter  of  Zeus,  which  Polydamna,  the 
wife  of  Thon,  had  given  her,  a  woman  of 
Egypt,  where  Earth  the  grain-giver  yields 
herbs  in  greatest  plenty,  many  that  are 
healing  in  the  cup,  and  many  baneful."1 

So  Telemachus  was  kindly  entertained  by 
Helen  and  Menelaus,  and  when  he  left  them 
it  was  not  without  a  gift. 

"  And  Helen  stood  by  the  coffers  wherein 
were  her  robes  of  curious  needlework  which 
she  herself  had  wrought.  Then  Helen,  the 
fair  lady,  lifted  one  and  brought  it  out,  the 
widest  and  most  beautifully  embroidered  of 
all,  and  it  shown  like  a  star,  and  lay  far 
beneath  the  rest." 

Presently,  we  read,  "  Helen  of  the  fair 
face  came  up  with  the  robe  in  her  hands, 
and  spake :  '  Lo !  I  too  give  thee  this  gift, 

i  Miss  Clerke,  in  her  "  Familiar  Studies  of  Homer," 
tries  to  show  that  the  drug  was  opium. 

139 


NOTE 

dear  child,  a  memorial  of  the  hands  of 
Helen,  for  thy  bride  to  wear  upon  the  day 
of  thy  desire,  even  of  thy  marriage.  But 
meanwhile  let  it  lie  with  thy  mother  in  her 
chamber.  And  may  joy  go  with  thee  to  thy 
well-builded  house,  and  thine  own  country.' " 
The  handiwork  of  the  cause  of  all  sorrow,  is 
regarded  as  a  fit  present  for  a  stainless  bride. 

Helen's  last  words,  in  Homer,  are  words 
of  good  omen,  her  prophecy  to  Telemachus 
that  Odysseus  shall  return  home  after  long 
wanderings,  and  take  vengeance  on  the 
rovers.  We  see  Helen  no  more,  but  Homer 
does  not  leave  us  in  doubt  as  to  her  later 
fortunes.  He  quotes  the  prophecy  which 
Proteus,  the  ancient  one  of  the  sea,  delivered 
to  Menelaus:  — 

"  But  thou,  Menelaus,  son  of  Zeus,  art  not 
ordained  to  die  and  meet  thy  fate  in  Argos, 
the  pasture-land  of  horses,  but  the  deathless 
gods  will  convey  thee  to  the  Elysian  plain 
and  the  world's  end,  where  is  Rhadamanthus 
of  the  fair  hair,  where  life  is  easiest  for  men. 
No  snow  is  there,  nor  yet  great  storm,  nor 
any  rain ;  but  alway  ocean  sendeth  forth  the 
breeze  of  the  shrill  West  to  blow  cool  on 
men;  yea,  for  thou  hast  Helen  to  wife,  and 
thereby  they  deem  thee  to  be  son  of  Zeus." 

We  must  believe,  with  Isocrates,  that 
Helen  was  translated,  with  her  lord,  to  that 

140 


NOTE 

field  of  Elysium,  "where  falls  not  hail,  or 
rain,  or  any  snow."  This  version  of  the  end 
of  Helen's  history  we  have  adopted,  but 
many  other  legends  were  known  in  Greece. 
Pausanias  tells  us  that,  in  a  battle  between 
the  Crotoniats  and  the  Locrians,  one 
Leonymus  charged  the  empty  space  in  the 
Locrian  line,  which  was  entrusted  to  the 
care  of  the  ghost  of  Aias.  Leonymus  was 
wounded  by  the  invisible  spear  of  the  hero, 
and  could  not  be  healed  of  the  hurt.  The 
Delphian  oracle  bade  him  seek  the  Isle  of 
Leuke  in  the  Euxine  Sea,  where  Aias  would 
appear  to  him,  and  heal  him.  When 
Leonymus  returned  from  Leuke  he  told 
how  Achilles  dwelt  there  with  his  ancient 
comrades,  and  how  he  was  now  wedded  to 
Helen  of  Troy.  On  the  back  of  an  Etruscan 
mirror  in  the  Bibliotheque  Nationale  of 
Paris  is  a  representation  of  Helen  in  Leuke, 
among  the  heroes  of  the  war.  Yet  the 
local  tradition  of  Lacedaemon  showed  the 
sepulchre  of  Helen  in  Therapnae.  Accord- 
ing to  a  Rhodian  legend  (adopted  by  the 
author  of  the  "  Epic  of  Hades"),  Helen  was 
banished  from  Sparta  by  the  sons  of 
Menelaus,  came  wandering  to  Rhodes,  and 
was  there  strangled  by  the  servants  of  the 
queen  Polyxo,  who  thus  avenged  the  death 
of  her  husband  at  Troy.  It  is  certain,  as 


141 


we  learn  both  from  Herodotus  (vi.  61)  and 
from  Isocrates,  that  Helen  was  worshipped 
in  Therapnae.  In  the  days  of  Ariston  the 
king,  a  deformed  child  was  daily  brought  by 
her  nurse  to  the  shrine  of  Helen.  And  it  is 
said  that,  as  the  nurse  was  leaving  the 
shrine,  a  woman  appeared  unto  her,  and 
asked  what  she  bore  in  her  arms,  who  said, 
"she  bore  a  child."  Then  the  woman  said, 
"show  it  to  me,"  which  the  nurse  refused, 
for  the  parents  of  the  child  had  forbidden 
that  she  should  be  seen  of  any.  But  the 
woman  straitly  commanding  that  the  child 
should  be  shown,  and  the  other  beholding 
her  eagerness,  at  length  the  nurse  showed 
the  child,  and  the  woman  caressed  its  face 
and  said,  "she  shall  be  the  fairest  woman  in 
Sparta."  And  from  that  day  the  fashion  of 
its  countenance  was  changed,  "and  the 
child  became  the  fairest  of  all  the  Spartan 
women." 

It  is  a  characteristic  of  Greek  literature 
that,  with  the  rise  of  democracy,  the  old 
epic  conception  of  the  ancient  heroes  altered. 
We  can  scarcely  recognize  the  Odysseus  of 
Homer  in  the  Odysseus  of  Sophocles.  The 
kings  are  regarded  by  the  tragedians  with 
some  of  the  distrust  and  hatred  which  the 
unconstitutional  tyrants  of  Athens  had 
aroused.  Just  as  the  later  chansons  de  geste 

142 


of  France,  the  poems  written  in  an  age 
of  feudal  opposition  to  central  authority, 
degraded  heroes  like  Charles,  so  rhetorical, 
republican,  and  sophistical  Greece  put  its 
quibbles  into  the  lips  of  Agamemnon  and 
Helen,  and  slandered  the  stainless  and  fear- 
less Patroclus  and  Achilles. 

The  Helen  of  Euripides,  in  the  "  Troades," 
is  a  pettif ogging  sophist,  who  pleads  her  cause 
to  Menelaus  with  rhetorical  artifice.  In  the 
"  Helena,"  again,  Euripides  quite  deserts 
the  Homeric  traditions,  and  adopts  the  late 
myths  which  denied  that  Helen  ever  went  to 
Troy.  She  remained  in  Egypt,  and  Achaeans 
and  Trojans  fought  for  a  mere  shadow, 
formed  by  the  Gods  out  of  clouds  and  wind. 
In  the  "  Cyclops "  of  Euripides,  a  satirical 
drama,  the  cynical  giant  is  allowed  to  speak 
of  Helen  in  a  strain  of  coarse  banter.  Per- 
haps the  essay  of  Isocrates  on  Helen  may 
be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  answer  to  the 
attacks  of  several  speakers  in  the  works 
of  the  tragedians.  Isocrates  defends  Helen 
simply  on  the  plea  of  her  beauty:  "To 
Heracles  Zeus  gave  strength,  to  Helen 
beauty,  which  naturally  rules  over  even 
strength  itself."  Beauty,  he  declares,  the 
Gods  themselves  consider  the  noblest  thing 
in  the  world,  as  the  Goddesses  showed  when 
they  contended  for  the  prize  of  loveliness. 


NOTE 

And  so  marvellous,  says  Isocrates,  was  the 
beauty  of  Helen,  that  for  her  glory  Zeus  did 
not  spare  his  beloved  son,  Sarpedon ;  and 
Thetis  saw  Achilles  die,  and  the  Dawn 
bewailed  her  Memnon.  "  Beauty  has  raised 
more  mortals  to  immortality  than  all  the  other 
virtues  together."  And  that  Helen  is  now 
a  Goddess,  Isocrates  proves  by  the  fact  that 
the  sacrifices  offered  to  her  in  Therapnae, 
are  such  as  are  given,  not  to  heroes,  but  to 
immortal  Gods. 

When  Rome  took  up  the  legends  of 
Greece,  she  did  so  in  no  chivalrous  spirit. 
Few  poets  are  less  chivalrous  than  Virgil; 
no  hero  has  less  of  chivalry  than  his  pious 
and  tearful  Aeneas.  In  the  second  book 
of  the  Aeneid,  the  pious  prince  finds  Helen 
hiding  in  the  shrine  of  Vesta,  and  determines 
to  slay  "the  common  curse  of  Troy  and  of 
her  own  country."  There  is  no  glory,  he 
admits,  in  murdering  a  woman :  — 

Extinxisse  nefas  tamen  et  sumpsisse  merentis 
Laudabor  poenas,  animumque  explesse  juvabit 
Ultricis  flammae,  et  cineres  satiasse  meorum. 

But  Venus  appears  and  rescues  the  unworthy 
lover  of  Dido  from  the  crowning  infamy 
which  he  contemplates.  Servius  doubted 
whether  the  passage  was  genuine.  The 
same  commentator  speaks  of  an  amulet 
worn  by  Helen,  —  a  red  stone  which  shed 

144 


drops  like  blood  —  a  romantic  touch  worthy 
of  Hawthorne.  Hundreds  of  years  later, 
Helen  found  a  worthier  poet  than  Virgil 
in  Quintus  Smyrnaeus,  who  in  a  silent  age 
sang  the  swan-song  of  Greek  epic  minstrelsy. 
It  is  thus  that  (in  the  fourth  century  A.  D.) 
Quintus  describes  Helen,  as  she  is  led  with 
the  captive  women  of  Ilios,  to  the  ships 
of  the  Achaeans:  —  "Now  Helen  lamented 
not,  but  shame  dwelt  in  her  dark  eyes,  and 
reddened  her  lovely  cheeks,  ....  while 
around  her  the  people  marvelled  as  they 
beheld  the  flawless  grace  and  winsome 
beauty  of  the  woman,  and  none  dared 
upbraid  her  with  secret  taunt  or  open 
rebuke.  Nay,  as  she  had  been  a  Goddess 
they  beheld  her  gladly,  for  dear  and  desired 
was  she  in  their  sight.  And  as  when  their 
own  country  appeareth  to  men  long  wander- 
ing on  the  sea,  and  they,  being  escaped  from 
death  and  the  deep,  gladly  put  forth  their 
hands  to  greet  their  own  native  place ;  even 
so  all  the  Danaans  were  glad  at  the  sight 
of  her,  and  had  no  more  memory  of  all  their 
woful  toil,  and  the  din  of  war:  such  a  spirit 
did  Cytherea  put  into  their  hearts,  out  of 
favour  to  fair  Helen  and  Father  Zeus." 
Thus  Quintus  makes  amends  for  the  trivial 
verses  in  which  Coluthos  describes  the  flight 
of  a  frivolous  Helen  with  an  effeminate  Paris. 


In  addition  to  these  poetical  legends  about 
Helen,  many  other  singular  and  wild  tradi- 
tions may  be  found  in  odd  corners  of  Greek 
literature.  It  appears  as  if,  through  the 
long  course  of  the  years,  almost  everything 
that  fancy  could  devise  about  Helen  had 
been  invented.  The  author  found  a  curious 
proof  of  this,  and  of  the  inevitable  coin- 
cidences of  invention,  when  engaged  with  a 
friend  on  a  romance  about  the  later  fortunes 
of  the  daughter  of  the  Swan.  The  fancy 
of  his  friend  struck  out  a  variety  of  ideas  in 
connection  with  Helen,  which  seemed  novel, 
and  seemed,  as  the  saying  is,  "  un-Greek." 
For  example,  he  feigned  that  Paris  beguiled 
Helen  at  the  first,  by  assuming,  through  art 
magic,  the  form  of  Menelaus.  Again,  the 
red  jewel  of  Helen,  already  known  to  us 
through  Servius,  the  stone  which  seemed  to 
drip  with  blood,  was  called  the  "  Star  "  in  the 
novel.  Helen's  power  of  speaking  in  the 
voices  of  all  the  heroes'  wives,  alluded  to 
in  the  Odyssey,  was  dwelt  on,  and  there 
were  other  un-Homeric  and  fantastic  details. 
At  this  time  appeared  the  twelfth  part 
of  Rosscher's  Ausfuhrliches  Lexikon  der 
Griechischen  und  T^omischen  Mythologie,  con- 
taining an  erudite  study  of  Helen.  Herein 
we  discovered  that  new  inventions  about 
her  seemed  impossible.  Eustathius,  the 

146 


NOTE 

Bishop  of  Thessalonica,  had  already  given 
the  fable  showing  how  Paris,  by  magic  art, 
beguiled  Helen  in  the  form  of  Menelaus, 
just  as  Uther,  by  Merlin's  aid,  deceived 
Ygerne,  the  mother  of  Arthur  (Eustathius, 
1946,  9).  Helen's  power  of  speaking  with 
the  voices  of  all  women,  "caused  her  to  be 
called  Echo"  (Eustathius,  1496,  25).  The 
power  was  a  bridal  gift  from  Aphrodite 
(Ptolem.,  Nov.  Hist.  4).  Helen  was  a 
"  Moon-child"  born  of  the  Moon  (Eustathius, 
1488,  21).  The  famous  blood-red  stone 
was  actually  named  "The  Star-stone"  in 
antiquity  (dtrrepiT-qs,  Ptolem.,  Nov.  Hist.  7, 
Myth.  199,  24);  it  was  a  love-talisman.  A 
number  of  other  curious  legends  of  Helen 
are  collected  in  Rosscher  by  the  industry 
of  R.  Engelmann. 

To  follow  the  fortunes  of  Helen  through 
the  middle  ages  would  demand  much  space 
and  considerable  research.  The  poets  who 
read  Dares  Phrygius  believed,  with  the 
scholar  of  Dr.  Faustus,  that  "Helen  of 
Greece  was  the  admirablest  lady  that  ever 
lived."  Richard  Barnfield,  in  his  queer 
hexameters,  calls  her 

Happie  Helen,  women's  most  wonder,  beautifuU  Helen. 

Probably  the  great  authority  about  Trojan 
matters  among  our  ancestors,  was  Caxton's 

147 


book,  reprinted  down  to  the  eighteenth 
century  as  The  Destruction  of  Troy.  Caxton 
quotes  Dares  "as  he  that  saw  them," — the 
heroes  of  the  war,  —  "  many  times  during  the 
siege  before  the  city.  And  he  began  to 
speak  of  Helen,  and  saith,  that  she  was  so 
fair,  that  in  all  the  world  no  man  could  find 
a  fairer."  As  to  Helen's  share  of  guilt, 
Caxton  expresses  no  very  decided  opinion. 
Helen  showed  an  unfortunate  curiosity, 
Caxton  thinks,  in  going  where  she  was  likely 
to  meet  Paris.  "  Wherefore  Paris  could  not 
forbear  beholding  her,  saying  in  himself 
that  he  had  never  seen  nor  heard  tell  of  any 
so  beautiful  and  well-formed.  And  as  he 
beheld  her,  she  likewise  beholding  him  many 
times  and  oft,  he  seemed  to  her  that  he  was 
more  fairer  a  great  deal  than  had  been 
reported  to  her,  and  still  she  said  in  herself, 
that  she  never  saw  a  man  of  so  great  beauty, 
nor  that  pleased  her  so  well  to  behold,  and 
so  she  left  all  her  devotions,  and  gave  no 
heed  to  anything  save  only  to  behold  Paris." 
This  was  the  beginning  of  many  evils  to  the 
Greeks.  Soon  they  "declared  to  each  other 
how  they  were  surprised  with  love,  and 
reasoned  how  they  might  come  to  the  end 
of  their  desires."  Still  it  was  by  a  night 
capture  that  Paris  seized  Helen  in  the 
temple,  and  "whiles  that  Helen  was  with 


the  other  prisoners  in  the  ship,  she  ceased 
not  to  weep,  and  bewail  with  great  sighs  her 
husband,  daughter,  brethren,  country,  and 
her  friends,  and  was  in  so  great  sorrow  that 
she  ceased  to  eat  and  drink.  But,  at  last, 
"  Helen  was  comforted  a  little,  and  Paris  did 
please  her  to  the  uttermost  of  his  power. 
.  .  .  .  And  Paris  wedded  Helen  in  the 
Temple  of  Pallas. "  In  Caxton's  story,  Paris 
and  Aias  slew  each  other.  As  for  Menelaus, 
"  having  endured  many  perils  at  sea,  he  at 
length  sailed  to  Michmus  (Mycenae?)  having 
with  him  Helen  his  wife."  So  says  the  book 
which  Caxton  "  translated  (though  rudely) 
out  of  French  into  English,"  being  "  weary 
of  tedious  writing  and  worn  in  years." 

A  quaint  version  of  Trojan  affairs  is  given 
in  Thomas  Heywood's  two  plays  of  The 
Iron  Age  (London,  printed  by  Nicholas  Okes, 
1632).  Heywood  follows  Caxton  pretty 
closely,  but  his  Helen  is  no  better  than  the 
heroine  of  Coluthus.  After  a  massacre  in 
which  most  of  the  heroes  fall,  Hermione 
says :  — 

Can  you  behold  this  slaughter? 

Helen.     Yes,  and  dye 
At  sight  of  it,  for  why  should  Helen  live? 
Helen,  the  cause  of  all  these  Princes'  deaths; 
Cease  to  lament,  reach  me  my  glasse,  Hermione, 
Sweete  orphante  do,  thy  father's  dead  already, 
Nor  will  the  Fates  lend  thee  a  mother  long. 

149 


Enter  HERMIONE  with  a  looking  glass,  then  exit. 

Thankes,  and  so  leave  me;  was  this  wrinkled  forehead 
When  'twas  at  best,  worth  half  so  many  lives? 

***** 

Then  why  should  these  my  blastings  still  survive 

Such  royal  ruines,  or  I  longer  live, 

Than  to  be  termed  Helen  the  beautiful? 

I  am  grown  old,  and  Death  is  ages  due 

When,  Courtiers  sooth,  our  glasses  will  tell  true. 

So  Helen  strangles  herself,  refusing  to 
survive  her  own  loveliness. 

But  when  English  poetry  first  found  the 
secret  of  perfect  music,  Marlowe  conceived 
of  Helen  as  ever  fair,  of  a  beauty  that 
waxed  not  old.  La  mart  n'y  mord,  as 
Clement  Marot's  motto  ran.  The  speech 
of  Faustus  is  almost  too  hackneyed  to  be 
quoted,  and  altogether  too  beautiful  to  be 
omitted :  — 

Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships, 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium  ! 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss. 
Her  lips  suck  forth  my  soul !  see  where  it  flies; 
Come,  Helen,  come,  give  me  my  soul  again; 
Here  will  I  dwell,  for  heaven  is  in  those  lips, 
And  all  is  dross  that  is  not  Helena. 

***** 

Oh  thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air 
Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars. 

The  loves  of  Faustus  and  Helen  are 
readily  allegorized  into  the  passion  of  the 
Renaissance  for  classical  beauty,  the  passion 


to  which  all  that  is  not  beauty  seemed  very 
dross.  This  is  the  idea  of  the  second  part 
of  "  Faust,"  in  which  Helen  once  more 
became,  as  she  prophesied  in  the  Iliad,  a 
song  in  the  mouths  of  later  men.  Almost 
her  latest  apparition  in  English  poetry,  is  in 
the  "  Helenics  "  of  Landor.  The  sweetness 
of  the  character  of  Helen ;  the  tragedy  of 
the  death  of  Corythus  by  the  hand  of  his 
father  Paris ;  and  the  omnipotence  of  beauty 
and  charm  which  triumph  over  the  wrath  of 
Menelaus,  are  the  subjects  of  Landor's  verse. 
But  Helen,  as  a  woman,  has  hardly  found  a 
nobler  praise,  in  three  thousand  years,  than 
Helen,  as  a  child,  has  received  from  Mr. 
Swinburne  in  "  Atalanta  in  Calydon. " 
Meleager  is  the  speaker :  — 

Even  such  (for  sailing  hither  I  saw  far  hence, 
And  where  Eurotas  hollows  his  moist  rock 
Nigh  Sparta,  with  a  strenuous-hearted  stream) 
Even  such  I  saw  their  sisters;  one  swan-white, 
The  little  Helen,  and  less  fair  than  she 
Fair  Clytemnestra,  grave  as  pasturing  fawns 
Who  feed  and  fear  some  arrow  ;  but  at  whiles, 
As  one  smitten  with  love  or  wrung  with  joy, 
She  laughs  and  lightens  with  her  eyes,  and  then 
Weeps;  whereat  Helen,  having  laughed,  weeps  too, 
And  the  other  chides  her,  and  she  being  chid  speaks 

naught, 

But  cheeks  and  lips  and  eyelids  kisses  her 
Laughing,  so  fare  they,  as  in  their  bloomless  bud 
And  full  of  unblown  life,  the  blood  of  gods. 


There  is  all  the  irony  of  Fate  in  Althaeas' 
reply:  — 

Sweet  days  befall  them  and  good  loves  and  lords, 
Tender  and  temperate  honours  of  the  hearths, 
Peace,  and  a  perfect  life  and  blameless  bed. 


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